


Cursed

by CopperCrane2, Lyrhia



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Multi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22815880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperCrane2/pseuds/CopperCrane2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrhia/pseuds/Lyrhia
Summary: One could forgive Endymion for thinking the hardest part of fulfilling the prophecy would be finding eight cursed beings who would 1) not eat/murder him; and 2) help him somehow locate the mysterious reincarnated queen and save his cursed kingdom... but as it turns out, it's travelling with these jerks that's the far bigger challenge.
Relationships: Aino Minako/Kunzite, Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi, Hino Rei/Jadeite, Kino Makoto/Nephrite, Mizuno Ami/Zoisite, Senshi/Shitennou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38
Collections: Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang 2020





	1. How The Incubus Joined The Team

Zhazakhim sits comfortably in a well enclosed corner of the Heavenly Kings inn. It has been acting as his local haunt for the past few years and while the place is old and grubby, the food average on its very of best days and the ale never quite cold enough in the summer, his loss of such pleasures is well worth their sacrifice since the inn is often populated with new faces. 

Built just to the wayside of a main throughroad of a dense forest, it’s isolated from the rest of the world but always busy with travellers. It’s a perfect place to meet strangers eager for good company since their inhibitions are lowered to just the right amount from the thrill of their being wholly surrounded by the wildness of nature, far, far away from the dreariness of their real lives and homes. It suits his needs perfectly and for nearly ten years he’s been a resident of a nearby cottage, having converted the place from a drafty den into an aesthetically pleasing, rustic boudoir. He’d been rather fond of it initially, but of course, as inevitable as such things are, after so many years of living in one location, watching others constantly come and go, the appeal of the place has begun to wear thin and he’s started to find himself wondering if it’s perhaps time to move along. 

Sitting with three well-to-do travellers, he considers whether it would be a good idea to simply leave with them when they depart the next day. It would be easy enough to charm them into bringing him along - they’re so enthralled with him, all he’d really need to do is announce his intentions to become their latest companion (plus they have the privacy of a carriage, which would make things very convenient for when he got hungry on the road). 

“It’s such a shame we’re going to have to leave tomorrow. I would have rather liked to stay another day or two,” one of the ladies moans. “The forest is filled with such wonders. I should have dearly loved to see more.”

“It can’t be helped,” her escort says, shaking his head. “The diversion around the Lunar Kingdom adds another two days to our journey and we just can’t afford to stay if we really do intend on making it to our ship on time.”

“But it’s been a whole year, it’s _got_ to be safe to travel through it by now.”

The other woman sighs and leans on Zhazakhim’s shoulder. “It’s not quite a year yet, and even so, I wouldn’t want to risk it. A whole kingdom under a sleeping curse? What if we fell prey to it, too?”

Truth be known, the recent events of the Lunar Kingdom are what initially sparked Zhazakhim’s desire to leave - the place is a few days’ ride from the inn, but even that is too close for his liking. He’s had enough dealings with curses to last him his very, _very_ long life. “Almost certainly you would,” he says. “A curse powerful enough to cover an entire kingdom? And one as large as Lunar, too? If anyone were to step foot in there, they would certainly fall instantly into a coma.”

The lady is still not convinced. “But how could we ever really be sure? No one from Lunar escaped, so who knows the details for certain?”

Zhazakhim can easily answer that one. “If no one escaped,” he explains, “then it must have affected non-Lunar people as well: travellers, tradesmen, visitors who’d been there at the time the curse was placed. There are many variations of curses, but at their root, there are truly only two main categories.” A quick scan of his three companions tells him they’re hooked. His ability to capture the attention of others is one of the few real benefits of his own curse, and one which he relishes with delight. “There are those attached to specific people, and those attached to places. You can have varying degrees of both and sometimes even a mix of the two, but from what information people have been able to gather from outside Lunar, it seems most likely that the sleeping curse is location-based, and _that_ ,” he says, “means danger for any who would dare approach. If we were to travel through Lunar, we wouldn’t make it past the first step inside.”

“We?” the gentleman notes, hope evident in his voice. 

“‘We’ indeed,” Zhazakhim confirms. “I have decided to travel with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” the ladies squeal. “Our darling Zaky is coming with us!”

“I’m glad my decision has made you happy.” Leaning in, Zhazakhim touches his lips to those of the more eager of the two ladies, deepening the kiss when she moans. She is deliciously invigorating, but he pulls away before he absorbs too much from her at once. “Drinks to celebrate?” he offers as he stands, a self-satisfied grin plastered to his face as he leaves the ladies and their escort to plan how they’re going to adjust to having an extra companion on their trip. The kiss was intense, enough to stave off his hunger, but it isn’t nearly enough to slate him. The orgy he's planning on having with the three of them that night would certainly take care of that, so he isn’t too worried. 

“They’re wrong.”

Zhazakhim frowns at the young stranger attempting to lean oh-so-nonchalantly against the bar. “Who’s wrong about what?” 

“Your company of friends,” the stranger clarifies. “They’re wrong about the Lunar Kingdom. One person did escape the curse.”

Zhazakhim knows very well when someone is trying to lure him in for a story, it _is_ part of his own stock and trade, after all. This new visitor is going about it just a little too emphatically - it’s evidently not his main skill - but Zhazakhim is wise and experienced enough to spot those whose tales have potential. “One person?” he asks, willingly taking the bait. “And I suppose you know this for sure, do you?”

“Of course,” the young man says. “It’s me.” 

“You?” He raises a red, well-coiffed eyebrow in doubt at the very idea. 

“Yes.”

Zhazakhim smells bullshit. “ _You_ managed to break free of the largest, most powerful location-based sleeping curse the world has ever known?” He gives him an obvious once-over. “You?” he asks again. The dark-haired stranger is a boy, really, perhaps no more than sixteen or seventeen. Is he nimble? It’s evident enough from his body shape that he likely prefers speed over brawn. Attractive? Zhazakhim is willing to admit that there is a certain… _je ne sais quoi_ about him. And perhaps in a few years’ time, given a little more practice and a decent amount of tutelage, he could even be charming. But the greatest curse breaker of all time?

“... Yes?”

Zhazakhim’s mouth twists into a smug grin. “You’re sounding less sure.”

“Well, I didn’t _break through_ the curse, per se.” He swivels around dramatically to face the bar and gestures for the barmaid to fill his mug, half flinging his black cape behind him as he does. “I escaped before it was activated.”

 _Ah, there’s the rub._ Zhazakhim adds a penchant for dramatics to the stranger’s list of qualities and then signals to also have his drinks poured. “Not quite the same thing, is it?” he says. 

“I had a dream telling me it was going to happen, and the curse literally took effect the very second I crossed over Lunar’s border. I’m intrinsically linked to the whole thing - although I’m not sure why…” he tails off as he watches the barmaid walk straight past him and fill Zhazakhim’s order first, a slight flush to her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes, “...I’m still trying to figure that one out. By the way, that was an impressive parlour trick you pulled earlier.”

 _Parlour tri-_ Zhazakhim’s mouth tightens into a line of displeasure. _How rude_. Instead of saying so he watches and waits as the barmaid finishes pouring the boy’s ale. As soon as she’s done, he swipes the mug from his fingers and takes a long gulp. 

“Oi! You have four mugs of your own!” At the outburst an older, burly man to the stranger’s left begins to pay attention. 

“Recompense for your insult.” Zhazakhim sizes up this second new person, watching to see if he’s going to react as well. “You with him?”

The burly man shrugs. “I’m not his keeper.”

It earns him a glare from the boy. “You could have stopped him from stealing my ale.”

“Yes, I could have.”

The boy frowns. “What’s with the attitude?”

“What attitude?”

“This one.”

“This is my natural disposition. Now shut up and leave me to enjoy my booze in peace.”

The boy looks at his companion hard. “ _Urgh_ ,” he says, finally. “I can’t believe you’re still angry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“To overreact I would have to know what you were referring to. And since I have no idea what you could have _possibly_ done that could annoy me to the point of overreacting, I obviously can’t be bloody well overreacting, now can I?”

The young man takes a moment to process the sentence. “You’re angry,” he concludes. 

“I’m _getting_ angry now.”

“It isn’t even my fault.”

“ _It isn’t y_ -” The burly man slams his mug onto the bar. “It is _entirely_ your fault!” 

“So you _are_ angry.”

“ _Dammit, Endymion!_ ”

The young man named Endymion pauses again, assessing. “You’re being ridiculous. And you’re embarrassing us in front of this nice gentleman.”

“If the nice gentleman doesn’t like it, he can shove it.”

“Now you’re just being rude.” Endymion turns to Zhazakhim. “I apologise for him, he’s just a little grouchy. We were almost a banshee’s dinner yesterday, you see, but-”

“ _Psh_ ,” the man grumbles, “‘almost’ he says.”

“-but he’s actually a real softie at heart.” 

The burly man snarls, flips off his companion and mumbles a few curses into his ale. 

Watching the mild kerfuffle, Zhazakhim’s interest in the strangers is renewed. He thinks about his next move. If the boy is trying to show off his and his companion’s fighting prowess, then it is best he responds in kind. “A banshee, you say? It’s a pity you didn’t have me with you. I could have handled her quite easily.”

Endymion looks surprised to hear it. “You’ve fought one before?”

Zhazakhim grins smugly. “I wouldn’t underestimate me, young man, it never ends well for those that do. I must warn you and your friend, my powers are no mere street con.” 

“Our sincerest apologies, he really doesn’t mean any harm and I intended no offence. I simply meant earlier that I am interested to learn how you seemed to suck that lady’s… whatever that red glow was.”

“It is her qi. A quick nap, a small snack and she’ll be fine. I can do far, _far_ worse. I could have taken all of her qi if I’d wanted to, but she enjoyed the little I did to her, trust me.” 

“Oh, it’s quite clear that she did.” Endymion glances over to his companions sitting at the table. The woman he kissed is still lying in the other woman’s arms, practically glowing with satisfaction.

“In any case,” Zhazakhim says seriously, “you and your travel companion would do well to stay away from me. Banshees are one thing, but I’m a wholly different level of cursed.” That’s usually enough to get people either to run away or to _really_ start talking. He suspects this pair, however, to be the latter. 

Endymion’s face changes suddenly, a broad smile spreading across his mouth. “Well, _you’re_ in luck, my good friend! Because you’re _exactly_ what we’ve been looking for.” He sounds suspiciously like a salesperson. This is not what Zhazakhim expected at all. “We’re _also_ cursed beings- well, I’m on a quest to fulfill a prophecy, so technically it’s actually my kingdom that’s cursed, not me. But _he’s_ definitely cursed.”

“Who? Him?” Zhahzakhim eyes up the surly brown haired fellow. 

“Yes, tell him, Niho.”

The man apparently named Niho sighs, obviously displeased at being forced to perform like a trained monkey on cue. Zhazakhim wonders what sort of power this dark hair boy has over him. “Yeah,” he says with no real conviction, “I am also a cursed being.”

That is enough for Endymion to continue with his proposal. “If you join us on our quest to find the reincarnated queen and restore her to her rightful place on the throne, as a reward for your service your curse will be lifted!”

The boy is clearly terrible at pitching, but the last part catches his attention. “Lifted? Says who?”

“My prophetic dream.”

That smell of bovine faecal matter is in the air again. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, it’s true. Tell him, Niho.”

“It’s true,” Niho deadpans as he signals the barmaid to pour him another pint of ale, “he had a prophetic dream. Apparently.”

“Wait,” Zhazakhim says, trying to wrap his head around it all, “you want me to join you on a princess quest?”

Endymion looks confused. “Uh, I mean she’s a queen so…”

“It’s a category of quest,” Niho explains to the boy. “There’s a person - doesn’t have to be royalty but they’re usually a princess, hence the name - and they’re trapped somewhere. Almost always it involves the slaying of a beast, or a cursed being, in order to free them and obtain the reward.”

“Oh.” Endymion looks at Zhazakhim. “That’s not what this is. There’s no real battling or slaying or grave amounts of danger of any kind-”

“The bloody limb that Banshee’s probably still gnawing on would disagree with you pretty damn heavily.”

Endymion smacks the flat of his hand onto the bar, “It was _one time_ , Nihoru. One mistake, alright? You guys were right, I should have listened, she was not a suitable cursed being for the quest. But your leg is completely healed now, and I said I was sorry.”

“You did _not_.”

“Yeah well, this is my first quest. Give me a break, already.”

“Still not an apology,” he says, drinking his ale. “You’re doing a great job of selling us to the dandelion over here, aren’t you?” 

Zhazakhim turns to glare at him so swiftly it almost gives him whiplash. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

Nihoru smirks. “You heard.”

Zhazakhim is outraged. “I’m not even blonde!”

“You’re weedy.”

“ _Why you_ -”

“Ignore him, please. He does it deliberately to get a rise out of people.” Endymion steps visibly between them. 

“He’s an _ass_ ,” Zhazakhim fumes.

“I know.”

“How do you tolerate him?”

“Through necessity only, I assure you.”

“Damn right ‘necessity’,” Nihoru chimes in, “I’d like to see how you’d have survived the fight against the screechy death lady without my help.”

Endymion rolls his eyes. “If I buy your next round of ale, will you shut the hell up about the banshee?”

Nihoru considers the proposition. “Yes,” he says, and then adds as an afterthought, “I also want some fried potatoes.”

"You're pushing your luck."

"My whole _leg._ "

"Urgh, fine." Endymion quickly tosses a coin to the barmaid and then refocuses his attention onto Zhazakhim. “It’s a simple adventure,” he explains. “I had a dream. The dream gave me directions as to how to save Lunar and told me that in exchange for their service, those who help me will have their curses lifted. I don’t know what ‘category of quest’ that counts as, but that’s not really important, is it? All that matters is whether you want to be free, finally, of your own curse.”

Zhazakhim is a lot of things, but he isn’t a dupe. “A prophetic dream is no basis for a guarantee.”

“Fair enough,” Endymion admits, “but answer me this: have you got anything better to do?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m going on a journey.”

“With _that_ lot?” Endymion points at Zhazakhim’s potential travel companions. 

He does not like the insinuation. “What do you mean ‘that’ lot? What’s wrong with them? They’re very nice people.”

“Very rich, you mean.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s true, though.”

“Still rude.”

“They just seem so… _boring_.”

“You’ve never even spoken to them. How could you even know that?”

“Aren’t they just going to spend the summer in Magellan?”

“What does that matter?”

“You can spend _any_ summer you want in Magellan. You probably already have. Where’s the fun in that? You’ll likely get bored within a few weeks, anyway, Zaky,” Endymion pauses, “might I call you ‘Zaky’? I heard the lady use that name.”

“No.”

“Fair enough, whatever your name is, I’m offering you a much more interesting adventure than they ever could. And you’d be travelling with beings just like you, so you’ll have something to talk about other than the weather.”

The prospect of something so tantalising is certainly very appealing, but Zhazakhim still has pretty intense doubts over the whole thing. “Your friend doesn’t look very cursed.”

“Feels enough like it, especially with him around.”

Endymion shoves Nihoru. “Stop griping,” he says, and then looks back at Zhazakhim. “You don't exactly look very cursed, either, but if it’ll convince you, we also have a vampire and a gargoyle in our travelling company.”

He cocks an eyebrow at the likely tale. “Where?” Three cursed beings in one place? Not a chance. Not unless they were some wandering cursed carnival, but even _he’s_ never heard of something so ridiculous or dangerous, and he’s seen a lot of weird shit in his time. 

“Well, it’s four in the afternoon. Areis is sleeping upstairs-”

“How convenient of her.”

“-but that’s Maladive outside. You will have seen him as you walked in.”

He shakes his head. The boy is embellishing his story far too hard. “I saw no one when I entered,” he says, readying himself to leave them behind and rejoin his new travelling party, “save for the hideous new statue at the entrance.”

Endymion nods. “That’s him!” he says, excitedly, “That’s Maladive.”

Zhazakhim scoffs. A part of him was drawn to the prospect of a wacky adventure, but this is enough to close the book on the idea. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Vampires and gargoyles are extremely rare, and from what I know about them, they’re not the type to go on quests with strange kids and miserable bodyguards.” 

_“_ Well,” Endymion counters, “up until a year ago, no one ever dreamed it would be possible to curse an entire kingdom.”

Zhazakhim’s mouth closes with a click and he frowns. He does have a point. “Even so, everyone knows vampires don’t sleep. Not to mention the little fact that your rocky friend outside can’t be a gargoyle _and_ be permanently transformed into a statue, that’s a double curse. Double curses are impossible, so either he crossed the path of the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived, or your story hasn’t been thought through properly. If you’re trying to pull some sort of con I can tell you now it won’t work, I’m broke.” 

“That’s not a statue, that’s a sleeping gargoyle,” Endymion insists, “he turns to stone when sunlight touches his skin. It’s his way of regenerating.”

“Should you really be telling him all of this?” Nihoru is now eyeing _him_ up with suspicion. Zhazakhim is thoroughly affronted. _Like_ **_I’m_ ** _the dodgy one in this conversation._

“He’s going to find out when he joins us, anyway, so we might as well get it over with. Besides, it’s not like you’re helping much to convince him.”

“That’s your job. I’m just here to make sure you don’t die before my curse is removed.”

Zhazakhim doesn’t like this one bit. He’s assessed them properly now and while Nihoru might be good for some fun, his dark-and-broody sexiness isn’t going to provide him with nearly the same amount of qi as the three well-to-do travellers still waiting for their ale at his table. “I haven’t even come close to agreeing to your ridiculous proposition, and it’s awfully presumptive of you to act like I would.” 

“Oh, my apologies again, but I’m very certain that you will. The three cursed beings I’ve encountered so far already have and I still have another five to go, according to the prophecy. You would be my number four.”

Well that certainly doesn’t sound creepy _at all,_ but despite his better judgment, Zhazakhim’s curiosity is peaked again. “What do you need eight cursed beings for?”

“To find the queen and wake the kingdom.”

“Yes, yes, you said that already, but I don’t see a causal link here.”

Endymion shrugs. “I don’t get it, either, to be honest, but it’s not really my place to question it. It’s a prophecy, you’re supposed to just go along with what it says, there’s nothing else you really _can_ do.”

Zhazakhim looks at Nihoru. “And you’re ok with this?”

“Like I said before, I’m just here to get my curse lifted.”

He’s heard enough. He has an orgy he needs to start laying the groundwork for and packing to do for his trip the next day. “You’re _both_ nuts,” he says as he picks up the ale mugs, intending to end their conversation. “Thanks for the drink, though. Good day to you, sirs.”

Seeing that he is about to lose his audience, Endymion stands suddenly from his seat, putting Zhazakhim on edge. “If you don’t believe me, watch this.” With surprising deftness for anyone, let alone someone his age, he draws his sword, turns on Nihoru and brings the blade down, slicing through his forearm like butter.

Zhazakhim reels in terror, spilling ale over everyone in his vicinity. “Holy shit, you just… _you just cut his hand off!_ ” 

Nihoru stares dumbly at his limb on the floor as it twitches in a pool of its own blood. It takes him a few seconds to register what’s happened, the shock evident on all of his features, but once he recovers his senses he looks up at Endymion and _screams_ furiously into his beautiful, young face. “ _AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!_ ”

“Oh, stop yelling. It’s not like it doesn’t happen all the time.” Endymion pulls the dishcloth from the fear-stricken barmaid and wipes his blade before sheathing it. 

“ _Give me a little warning next time!_ ”

“You’re being a baby.”

Nihoru’s response is to immediately pick up his hand from the probably-disease-riddled floor, flop it around in what Zhazakhim can only assume is an attempt to shake off the clumps of dirt sticking to it, and then use it, of all the unholy things, to _slap_ Endymion across the face. “ _You did that on purpose, you little shit,_ ” he says as he aggressively shoves the hand onto the stump of his arm. 

Zhazakhim is about two seconds away from retching. 

“Now do you believe us?” Endymion asks, turning to look at him. 

Honestly, how is he expected to respond to that? Especially in a way that won’t also get his arms chopped off by the clearly psychotic, sword-wielding child. And perhaps it’s the shock of seeing it all, but Nihoru isn’t exactly responding in (what Zhazakhim believes is) the usual manner of having one’s limb severed from one’s body. He seems more… put out than _completely and utterly devastated_ at the loss of one of his most valuable extremities. 

Which is definitely weird. And also kind of terrifying. The screams of the inn’s other patrons in the background certainly aren’t helping matters. Such thoughts are quickly shoved to the back of his mind, however, once he sees what is actually happening to Nihoru’s arm. “Your hand!” he exclaims, not quite believing his eyes. “Your hand is fusing back to your arm!”

“Of course it is. I’m cursed with blood parasites that heal all my wounds. I can’t die.”

“Some people call him a zombie, but I believe the term to be somewhat of a misnomer.”

“Who cares what you call him,” Zhazakhim yells, “you sliced off his arm and he's stuck it back on like he's gluing two pieces of wood together!”

“You’re an incubus, aren’t you?” Endymion asks. 

“What?”

“An incubus, you absorb qi through sexual contact.”

“Y-yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with any of this-”

“Were you born as one, or were you cursed?”

“There’s no such thing as a born incubus! I was cursed nearly two centuries ago.”

“Perfect, that fits my requirements nicely,” he glances at Nihoru, as if to say that he was right. “And how exactly were you cursed?”

“It’s… it’s a long story but I would really rather not talk about it right now because _his arm is literally_ -”

“Hell’s bells,” a firm, feminine voice cuts in from behind, “can’t I wake up once from a day’s rest and not have to glamour an entire building?”

Endymion turns to the little stairwell of the inn and spots a dark-haired maiden as she descends. “Rei!” he says, jubilantly. “You’re up!”

“How could I sleep with all that racket? Is the sun down yet?”

“It’s the twilight hour, so you should be safe enough indoors.”

Despite the commotion of the inn, Zhazakhim’s attention is suddenly riveted. “Is she…” he breathes, enthralled with her approaching figure. 

“Amazing, isn’t she?” Endymion says, grinning. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to that initial impact over time... Zaky,” he tries. 

“No.”

“ _Mr Incubus_ , then.” 

“Definitely no.”

“Well, whatever your name is, may I present Areis, our very own lady of the night.” 

Nihoru bursts out laughing as the lady narrows her eyes into beautiful, violet threats of harm. 

“What? What did I say?”

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Zhazakhim clarifies while Nihoru continues to guffaw. 

Areis walks towards them, though her movements make it seem like she is hovering gracefully just above the floor. “For that insult, boy,” she hisses, her fangs bared, “I take an extra pint of blood from you tonight.” Zhazakhim’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. He’s never met a vampire before, and he’s _never_ heard of one being so beautiful. They’re usually human-sized but with furry, bat-like features: wings, pug noses, fuzzy, pointed ears. They’re blind, catching their prey through sound, smell and echolocation. This Areis is something altogether quite unique. 

Endymion huffs, “I meant it as a compliment,” he says, thoroughly put out at the prospect. “And I don’t think you need to do any glamouring, we’re at an inn in a forest adjacent to a sleeping kingdom, people can’t be too surprised if things get a little weird.”

“We’re on quite a serious quest,” Areis counters. 

“But who would think to stop us? Lunar’s greatest enemy is dead - that’s how the curse was activated in the first place - so it’s not like she’ll be a threat. Plus, the surrounding economy’s taken a plummet without the kingdom awake to trade with,” he says, “if anything, the more people know about who we are and what we’re doing, the more likely we can get it done.”

Areis pats his cheek lightly. “That is your youthful spirit talking. Power attracts enemies, and a gathering of our kind is highly unusual and suspicious, we should always be cautious.”

“She’s right, better safe than sorry,” Nihoru agrees, still grinning, “but what about him?”

Endymion looks at Zhazakhim. “Are you joining us or not?”

Zhazakhim eyes the gorgeous, so-called vampire who apparently sleeps, the disease-riddled zombie and the chop-happy boy. Adventures like this certainly don’t come along every day. “Why not?” he says, hoping his gut is right about them and he doesn’t end up in some creepy rich person’s eclectic collection of cursed beings, or something equally horrifying. 

“Oh no! Zaky, you said you were coming with us!” Zhazakhim turns around to see his three former companions cowering behind a table. 

He sighs dramatically and blows them a kiss. “Alas, my dears, I’ve changed my mind. But try to enjoy Magellan without me and think of me, always!”

“ _Oh yes, always!_ ” they promise wistfully. 

“Unfortunately _not_ always,” Areis corrects, practically floating towards the centre of the room. “For the next minute or so, maybe, but after that he’ll have been nothing but a dream…”

“Oh…” the lady says, falling under Areis’ thrall. 

Zhazakhim watches her, captivated by the sway she holds over the people. It is similar to his own power in principle, but where he can only draw out and enhance latent sexual desire, she seems to be able to manipulate her victims more wholly. She is _fascinating_. “So,” he says, forcing himself to look away, “when do we leave?” 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Endymion answers, “but first let’s go wake Maladive.”

“Urgh,” Nihoru moans. “If you think _I’m_ grouchy, just wait until you poke the sleeping rock.”


	2. The Real Treasure

It’s taken Endymion five years, seven months and twenty two days to do it, but finally, they’re here. He’s at the finish line. 

For as far back as his memory allows, he’d been a member of an underground rebel group, fighting against Lunar’s oppressive ruler and the murderer of the previous queen. An orphaned baby, Endymion had been found and indoctrinated into the righteous cause of the Golden Alliance, and as he’d grown from child to young teen he’d served as their spy and runner while they trained him, priming him for battle. But on the very night before their last stand was to take place against the tyrant Beryl and her armies of the undead, he’d gone to bed - an ordinary soldier, capable but green, a mere boy of fifteen - and dreamed the prophecy that changed _everything_. Waking in a cold sweat, he’d up and left his pseudo-family to a fight he’d foreseen would end in Pyrrhic victory: with Beryl dead and all of Lunar cursed to eternal sleep - her final, terrible gift to the kingdom she’d stolen and ruled so cruelly and oppressively. 

With the blessing of his comrades (before they’d become comatosed) he’d made his way out into the world, alone and afraid, the heaviness of abandoning his home countered only by the keen hope that his prophetic quest would be the key to saving his people. 

For over half a decade his destiny has weighed heavily upon his shoulders: the fate of an entire kingdom resting in his young hands. 

It’s been a long journey, but it’s finally, _finally_ coming to an end. He, his ‘merry’ party of eight cursed beings and one (admittedly reluctant) reincarnated Queen are just a mere furlong away from the outermost border of Lunar. All his secret doubts, the fears of his inadequacy, the constant questioning of his own fortitude, they’re finally about to vanish. Soon, all would be right with the world and his sacred duty would be fulfilled. 

Except, _of course_ , he has no bloody clue what to do next. 

“Now what?” Maladive has so far refrained from asking too many questions about what is expected to happen - he’s trusted the boy during their five years together and he has no doubt Endymion will come through in the end - but they’ve been standing just off the main road for the past twenty minutes and the sun is at its zenith, which means he’s unreasonably warm under his thick, woollen cloak. And _that_ is posing serious problems. 

“Hold on, I’m thinking.”

“Well, if you’re going to be thinking much longer, I’d like to expose myself to the sun.” 

“Don’t do that,” Pomako says. “It takes a good half hour for you to un-rockify yourself. We’re not going to be here that long,” she looks at Endymion, “unless we _are_.”

“Just give me a minute, guys.”

Maladive is always cranky when he’s hot. “I am sweating profusely and my joints ache. With the sun so high, even this cloak isn’t enough to stop the light filtering through. I’m half turned to stone already.” The late summer wind, as warm as the rest of the day, is of little help in alleviating his pains. 

“I vote we just toss Nitty over the border and see what happe- _Ow_!” Nihoru shrinks away from the assault to his head. “I’m kidding!”

“I’ll toss _you_ over the border.” 

He grins, in no way intimidated by Serenity’s threat, and attempts to tousle her tightly plaited, white hair. “It’s a good thing Queens don’t need to be any good at banter- _Oof!_ ”

“How’s that for banter?” she asks, rubbing at her knuckles. “ _Urgh,_ punching you is like hitting a damn wall. My hand hurts now.”

Having quickly recovered from the mild blow, he chuckles in a way that makes Serenity want to thump him again. “Thank you.” He takes her injured hand and places a light, overly-chivalrous kiss to her knuckles.

It earns him a scrunching of her nose and a look of disdain. “You need to stop hanging out with Zak so much.”

“Hey!” 

Nihoru feigns a grievous wound to his chest. “So no joy on my advances?”

Serenity shakes her head solemnly. “All I can say is you need to count your blessings that you somehow managed to win over Mako.”

“I’m still baffled by it, too,” Pomako says, joining in with the teasing. 

“Guys, _really_ ,” Endymion tries, practically begging for some quiet, “I’m trying to think.” 

“While you do that, I’m going to remove my cloak.” Maladive’s attempt at de-robing is met with a resounding “ _NO!_ ” from the group as a whole. Outnumbered and severely overheated, he’s thoroughly put out. “Didn’t your prophecy tell you what to do next?”

Endymion does his level best not to look too worried. “Not exactly,” he says, failing miserably. Things are not magically falling into place like they’ve been doing for literally every other aspect of the quest and it’s clearly going to become an issue if things don’t change quickly (there has not been a single plan made during their half decade together, and he’s utterly clueless as to how he is supposed to go about doing so now). 

“We have been asking about this for a while.” Amidala sounds more concerned than aggravated, but that isn’t exactly helpful in alleviating his anxiety over the situation. “You gave us your reassurance that you knew what had to be done. Is that still the case?”

“It would be,” he snaps, “if I could just be given a moment of quiet.”

Her lips tighten in displeasure at his tone. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you don’t know what to do.” 

Nihoru shakes his head, also not buying Endymion’s false confidence and seeing straight through his irritability. “Since when have these kids had any idea about what they’re doing?”

Amidala feels that’s a little unfair. “They’ve done a good job so far, and considering they’re the keys to fulfilling this prophecy, I don’t see why we should abandon our faith in their leadership now.”

“Leadership, eh? If you end up disappointed then it’ll be your own fault for believing their bull.” Nihoru tilts his head so that Endymion can see him out of the corner of his eye. “They’re as clueless as the rest of us.”

The poor man in question feels a headache brewing and pinches the bridge of his nose. Somewhere just off the road, in one of many overgrown trees, a crow caws. _Great,_ he thinks, _even the birds are laughing at me._

Pomako gives Nihoru a love tap on his bicep. “Stop it, the poor lamb’s clearly stressed enough as it is.”

“They’ve got to learn sometime, babe,” he says. “The humans can’t blag their way through everything and not have it come crashing down on them from time to time.”

“It seems to work for you,” she notes. 

“Yeah, but I’m immortal. I can afford to be a stubborn idiot.”

“And he does get stabbed, _a lot_ ,” Amidala adds. 

Pomako can’t argue with that. 

Serenity, however, is unwilling to let the comment slide. “I resent being lumped in with Dimwit Dimi. I never wanted any part in this adventure to begin with.”

At the use of his hated nickname, Endymion gives up all pretense at trying to think, shutting his eyes and doing his best to concentrate on his breathing and not on how nice it would be to abandon this dumb quest and live like a hermit in the woods. 

“You’re the one benefitting the most out of this,” Zhazakhim reminds her. “You get to be Queen of Lunar.”

“ _You_ can be Queen of Lunar,” she shoots back. “I just want lunch.”

“That’s a good idea, actually.”

A soft wind blows past them, teasing a few of the loosened tresses out of her braids. “You mean you’ll rule Lunar instead of me?” she asks, genuinely, naïvely hopeful. 

“Not a chance. As much as I would suit the idolatry that comes with being a king, I don’t think I’d be a very good leader, which,” he tucks one of the wayward strands behind Serenity’s ear, “defeats the whole point of doing all of this, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t pretend your reason for being here has anything to do with altruism,” Nihoru says. “You’re just here to lift your curse.”

“I am not.” Zhazakhim looks affronted. 

“We’re all here for our curses,” Wilhelmina says, “doesn’t mean we don’t care about Lunar and the humans, too.”

Nihoru still doesn’t buy it. “I suppose the benefits of being best friends with a queen and living in a palace have nothing to do with it, either?”

“It doesn’t actually,” Zhazakhim says, “I haven’t even decided if I’ll stay in Lunar when this is all over.”

Serenity can’t hide the crestfallen look on her face. “Oh, but you will, though, right?” she asks. “You’re not going to just dump me in Lunar and go, are you?”

Zhazakhim glances discreetly over at Amidala. “We’ll see.”

Serenity’s shoulders sag. “Oh. I’d thought-” she stops, her lips tightening. “Never mind.”

He smiles gently at her disappointment. “I liked your other suggestion, though.” He clarifies when her brow furrows adorably: “Lunch?”

“Ooh!” Her eyes widen and she looks over to their leader. “Hey, Dimi? Whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working. Let’s go get some grub!”

Maladive is also more than inclined to agree with the proposition. He places a cloaked, crunchy claw onto Endymion’s shoulder, snapping him out of his isolationist fantasy. “There’s no huge rush. It’s taken us a few years to get here, we can take another few hours to figure this out. For now, why don’t we put some food into our bellies and get out of this damned sunlight?”

“Hear, hear,” Areis agrees, equally eager to avoid the giant deathball of fire hanging directly above her. 

Endymion sighs heavily and watches as the laughing crow flies off into the distance. They’ll have to figure this conundrum out together it seems, and the idea of lunch does sound appealing. “Fine,” he relents just as an idea on how to cheer them all up pops into his head. “If I remember correctly there’s a nice inn at the top of that hill.” If all ten of them are going to spend the rest of the day arguing about what their next course of action is going to be, they might as well do it in pretty surroundings and with good food. 

“That’s technically a cuesta.”

“A what?” 

“It’s a cuesta, not a hill,” Serenity clarifies, “you can tell because one side slopes up gently while the other drops down steeply, like a cliff.” She sneaks a glance over at Maladive to see if she’s gotten it right.

“Well remembered,” he says, rewarding her with a small but pride-filled smile. 

“Why would they locate it all the way up there?” Wilhelmina asks Endymion. “It seems a little isolated.”

“It’s along a trade route from Marnier and it has a great view of Lunar,” he explains. “It used to be quite high end - but with the entirety of the kingdom asleep and the resulting reduction in through traffic, I’m guessing they’ve probably lowered their prices.”

“Guys,” Serenity says, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “look at that weird bird!”

Amidala moves next to her to try and spot it. “Where?” 

“Over there! Look at how it’s flying!” She points up into the sky and gasps at its erratic behaviour, “Do you reckon it’s diseased or injured or… _cursed_?”

Jadeite approaches her on her other side to get a better look, and then shakes his blond head when he figures out what it is. “That’s a sheet of parchment, Nitty.”

Serenity squints, raising her hand to shield her gaze from the sun, and then snorts when she realises he is right. “Oh yeah,” she giggles. 

“Who’d want to curse a bird, anyway?” Pomako asks, unable to find a reason herself for such a thing. “Seems like a pretty useless endeavour to me.”

“It might not have started out as a bird,” Serenity counters, “it could have been a person cursed into being a bird, which would’ve explained the wonky flying.”

“Again,” Jadeite says, feeling the need to clarify, “it’s a piece of parchment.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.” She looks up to track its progress. “It’s coming this way.”

They all watch as the paper undulates across the bright sky in a delicate descent, only to catch itself suddenly on a strong current and speed towards them, landing smack into Jadeite’s face. 

Serenity lets out a belly laugh at the sight, her whole body shaking with amusement as he stands momentarily paralysed by what’s just happened. 

“Hey Jay, you have something…” Zhazakhim says, his mouth twisted in a grin, “on your-”

“Yes, thank you, Zak, I am aware.” Jadeite peels it off his cheek and then frowns as he reads it. “It’s a flyer… Is that inn you were talking about called ‘The Golden View’?”

The name catches Endymion’s attention. “Yes, that’s it.”

Jadeite waves it at the group. “They’re having a twenty percent off special today.”

“Well,” says Wilhelmina, “if karma’s telling us to get lunch, then who are we to argue?” 

“That’s not how karma works,” Jadeite gripes, “but whatever.”

Zhazakhim points to the summit. “To the ‘Golden View’!”

“To the ‘Golden View’!” Serenity repeats excitedly and then trots up to Wilhelmina as they begin walking. “Hey, so…”

“If you’re going to ask me to fly us all up that hill-”

“ _Cuesta_ ,” Serenity corrects. 

“Cuesta,” she acknowledges, happy to encourage Serenity’s education, “the answer is no.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“Aww…” she pouts, and then begins hobbling, “but my foot really h-”

“Not going to work.”

“Damn,” she says and then after a few moments, scurries over to Maladive. 

“The sun’s out, Serenity,” he says before she even has a chance to try her luck. “By the time I’d have lifted us off the ground I’d be solid rock and we’d plummet back down to earth.”

“Oh, I know, but-”

“I’m not carrying you on my shoulder. I’m too hot as it is.”

“Aww…” 

He does his best not to look directly into what he knows to be an irresistible pout. As per usual, he fails. “Fine.” With an exasperated sigh aimed more at his own inability to say no to her than her asking him to act as a glorified packhorse, he kneels down so she can clamber up onto his left shoulder. 

“And Amidala, too?” she asks when she sits herself in place. 

“Why not,” he deadpans, still kneeling. “I’m already lifting a heavy load up a steep incline in the worst weather possible for my curse.”

“Hey, I’m not a heavy load!” She looks at the others for confirmation, “Am I?” If she really is, she’s going to hop off immediately. The only reason she ever asks Maladive or Wilhelmina for rides is because they’re super strong and they never seem to _really_ mind. But if it’s hard for them...

“Don’t let it get to you, Nitty,” Wilhelmina says, “he’s only teasing.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Maladive?” Amidala asks. 

He smiles under his hood, unseen, but it is clear enough in his voice. “If I can carry a whole cow while I crawl up a cliff, I can shoulder two ladies who want to save their walking feet for another day.”

Serenity does not want to know what the fate of the cow had been, or why he would’ve been carrying it up a cliff in the first place. “How come you’re not so gratuitous with me?” she asks instead. 

“Gracious,” Areis corrects, “not ‘gratuitous’.” Tilting the paper parasol and shifting her head carefully so that she can see under the lip of her thick scarlet hood, she notices from Serenity’s expression that the girl is confused as to the difference. “‘Gratuitous’ can refer to something unwarranted or over the top.”

“You mean like Zak?”

“ _Hey_!”

“A better example would be if I gave you advice that you didn’t want or need. That would be gratuitous.”

“Oh, I see. Thanks.” She looks down at Maladive. “How come you’re not so _gracious_ with me?”

“Because,” he says, “if I gave in every time you asked, your feet would literally never touch the ground.”

“I don’t hate walking, just when it involves going uphill.”

“Or downhill,” Maladive adds as Amidala climbs up onto his right shoulder, “or along a plateau.”

“You know, if you keep making fun of me, I’m going to eventually stop letting you give me rides.”

“Perish the thought. All set?” he asks when the two women steady themselves. 

“Yes,” Amidala says politely, “thank you, Maladive.”

“Yep,” Serenity chirrups, “thank youuuuuu- _Ooh_ , _woah_!” she giggles and grabs his head tightly for balance as he stands up. 

“Serenity,” he says, currently blinded by a pair of arms wrapped over his eyes, “I need to see.”

“Oh.” She removes them quickly and sits up. “Sorry, sorry,” she says and then points to their destination. “Tally Ho, friends! Onward to the food.”

Nihoru grins and leans over to Zhazakhim. “I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere about two birds and one stone.”

Endymion laughs, figuring that getting lunch sort of counts as a plan, and that’s a good enough start as any.

* * *

They’re about three quarters of the way up to the Golden View Inn when Serenity starts frowning. “Hey guys, do you hear something?”

“That’s your stomach grumbling.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. It’s been doing that for a while now.”

“Maladive!” She taps him with her heel to get him to stop talking. 

“I wasn’t trying to be offensive,” he says defensively. 

“Well, then maybe don’t point out my rumbly tummy!”

“Duly noted.”

Serenity’s head twitches to the left, towards the cliff edge. “There it is again.”

“We’ll reach the inn in a few minutes,” Endymion reassures, “and from what I can remember, the food is served quickly.”

“It’s _not_ my _stomach_ , your jerks,” she says, hopping off of Maladive’s shoulder. “It sounds like someone’s calling for help.”

Nihoru laughs. “Only you would have a belly that would cry for help when it’s hungry.”

“Oh you!” Serenity chases after him, fists clenched and raised to strike, but the zombie is far too quick for her, easily dodging her blows. 

“Everyone hush, I think she’s right.” Areis closes her eyes and tilts her head, using the supersonic hearing gifted to her by her curse to listen for anything unusual. “I can hear it, too.” She moves to the edge of the road and peers down into the overgrowth below, but under the burning sun her eyesight isn’t as powerful as it is in the dark. “I think there’s something down there, but I really can’t tell.”

Wilhelmina unceremoniously drops her packs. “Someone watch my bags, I’ll go see.” Without waiting for anyone’s approval she sprints to the precipice and dives off, her enormous wings shimmering into iridescent visibility as she descends. 

“Oh!” Pomako rushes as close to the edge as she dares. “I’ll never tire of seeing that, it’s so pretty!” 

Maladive nods as he, too, comes up beside her to watch Wilhelmina disappear from view. “Magnificent...” he breathes. 

She casts a quick side glance at him before looking up at Amidala, who’s still perched on his shoulder. They share a knowing grin. “Have you told her so?” she asks, feigning nonchalance. 

“Oh.” He clears his throat, embarrassed by the involuntariness of his comment. “No, I don’t think she’d-”

“I can assure you that she would,” Pomako says. “Very much so, in fact.”

Amidala can feel him tense under his cloak and pats him on the large horn at the tip of his shoulder. “You need to talk to her, Maladive, or she’ll never know how you truly feel.”

He hums. “About half a millenia ago I was serving in the forces of a warlord who was fighting against a much larger army. When we barricaded ourselves within our fortress they initially tried to starve us out, and then they poisoned the water.”

“Oh,” Pomako says, “how terrible. I’ve been through a siege, it’s not fun.”

“No. It wasn’t. After losing half our army to dehydration and starvation we could take it no longer, we opened the gates and attacked.”

She winces, easily predicting what happened.

“I assume things did not go well,” Amidala says.

“They did not. Only a handful of us returned, a few dozen at most.”

The ladies listen patiently, although neither of them are really sure where he’s going with it.

“The warlord... he- he was a stubborn man, unwilling to accept defeat and I was young and headstrong. I had a reputation to uphold, the son of a great general and a famous warrior in my own right. I couldn’t allow myself to perish in such an ignoble way, so I acquiesced to his plan.”

“He was the one who cursed you,” Pomako deduces. 

“I spent three days feeling like I was drowning in mud while my body tore itself apart, sprouting wings and growing in stature as my bones sharpened and stretched until they pierced through my skin.” He lifts his large hand out from his cloak, watching as the sun dries his talon-like fingers, turning them grey, hard, before dropping it back into the heavy folds of wool. “The pain was… unimaginable, but what came after was far worse.” Maladive sighs. “As a newly created gargoyle I had no control over what I did. I was not a man, I could not even call myself a beast, because at least a beast has thoughts. I was consumed, _consumed_ ,” he repeats dramatically, “with violence. When the sun finally rose I was stopped, turned to stone.”

Pomako nods, encouraging him to continue.

“In statue form I was vulnerable to destruction, as helpless as a baby, and yet I was not so much as sat on during the entire day.” He shakes his head. “When I awoke the next night, I found I had recovered my senses and was able to understand why I had been spared from destruction: I had massacred them all the night before. I hadn’t left a single soul alive, not even the warlord I was serving.”

“Oh,” Amidala says, “I know what that’s like.”

Maladive hums, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “I am sure you do. Though I do not think anyone could - or should - blame you for the complete eradication of all fairies. That was not your fault.”

“Yes,” Pomako adds, “the little shits did it to themselves.”

“Still, the guilt is there,” Amidala admits. “They were the only family I knew. But this is not about me. I am sorry you had to suffer through such trauma, Maladive. And I am sorry for the lives that were lost.”

“War is war,” Pomako says. “You have to let that kind of pain go.”

“Thank you, and I have, I think. It’s taken five hundred years but I’m getting there. _However,_ ” he says, taking in a deep breath as he does, “I would do it all over again-”

Pomako groans, rolling her eyes as she finally realises the point of his story. “Don’t say it.”

“-I would suffer every pain, every torture, relive all the guilt-”

Amidala sighs as she too catches on. 

“-rather than bear the excruciation of actually telling Mina how I really feel about her.”

Pomako shakes her head. “You’re a lost cause, Maladive.”

But Amidala isn’t so ready to give in. “You mustn’t let fear win,” she says. “Honest and open communication are the _only_ things that can allow you to move forward, whether it’s to be together or to stop yourself from pining after her if she refuses you.”

“But what if I don’t want to face rejection?”

“Well,” she says, eager to get him to see the bright side, “who says she _would_ reject?”

“You never know,” Pomako tries. 

“In the right moment, in the right _place_ , I’m sure she’d accept you,” Amidala’s voice takes on a wistful, dreamy quality. “If you were both to be surrounded by beauty and romance how could she refuse?”

“I suppose…” he says, somewhat confused, “but-”

“I know just the location, too! The perfect spot for you both to profess your love for each other, and of course I would be happy to take you there myself, it’d be no-”

“Honey,” Pomako interrupts, “you’re trying to lure people into the fairy dimension again.”

Amidala’s eyes widen in panic. “Oh my goodness, I am, aren't I?” She leaps off Maladive’s shoulder, terribly distressed at the thought of what she had just tried to do to her friends. “I’m so sorry, what a horrible person I am!” 

“Don’t trouble yourself over it,” Maladive says in the most conciliatory tone he can muster, “it’s not your fault.”

“Oh, curse my curse! I cannot wait to be rid of this terrible compulsion to lead people to their doom!”

“If all goes well, it won’t be much longer to wait, and if it helps at all, you haven’t been leading anyone to their ‘doom’ for a good while. At worst it’s only _really_ been a mild inconvenience.”

“It’s a bit more than that. The great weapon annihilated all fairies instantly,” Amidala says, not finding much comfort in his attempts to soothe, “that means there was no one to…” she hesitates as she tries to find a delicate way to put it, “to sweep away all the goo.”

“The _what_?” 

Before she can answer, Wilhelmina soars up past them, a dark haired lady wrapped in her arms. 

When they land, the rescuee is placed carefully onto her feet. “Oh,” she puffs, “thank you and bless you and thank you again!” Her voice is deep and hoarse, the latter likely from thirst and calling out for help. “I’d been clinging onto that tiny ledge since last night and it was so windy!” She is tall - about the same height as Nihoru - with olive skin and eyes the colour of garnet. “I couldn’t do anything but hold on for dear life.” 

“You’re safe now,” Serenity offers her most reassuring smile, “Would you like to sit down for a minute?” 

The lady responds by swaying briefly on her feet and then collapsing. “Woah there!” Wilhelmina exclaims, catching her. “Amidala!”

“Yes, of course!” The Changeling runs towards them, knowing intrinsically what is being asked of her. “Jadeite, is there any water in that pack of yours?”

“I hope so,” he says, checking. “Yes.” He pulls out a water skin. “What do I do with it?”

“Try and feed it to her - but slowly, and in small sips,” she warns as she dances her hands gracefully above her head. “She’s likely exhausted and dehydrated, that’s an easy enough fix.” Her fingertips begin to glow with a delicate blue light. “You handle the liquids, and I’ll do the rest.” When the light brightens sufficiently and engulfs her entire hands she hovers them over the lady, running them carefully from head to toe and back. “Yes,” she says, confirming her suspicions, “ she should make a full recovery. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

For the next few minutes the others watch from a safe distance as Amidala works her healing magic on the stranger, with Jadeite feeding tiny sips of liquid into her mouth while Wilhelmina holds her head in her lap. When the lady finally comes to, however, they all press together in a rush, each eager to get a better look at the woman who’d somehow been trapped on a tiny ledge, midway up a cliff. 

_“What were you doing down there?”_

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Are you feeling better now?”_

_“How did you get there? Did you fall? I bet you fell.”_

_“You should’ve been more careful. Didn’t I say people should be more careful on this road?”_

_“Give her some space, Nitty!”_

_“You give her space, you’re the one standing practically on top of her!”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“Oh my gosh, what if she was pushed?! Were you pushed?!”_

_“Why are your eyes that colour? I mean, they’re quite pretty, but they’re unusual.”_

_“You think she’s a cursed being, too?”_

_“I hardly think now’s the best time to ask these questions, she’s only just come to.”_

_“Well, if she’s a cursed being I can’t add her to the quest, we’ve long filled our quota and we’re practically at the finish line as is.”_

“Get back! All of you!” Amidala lifts her hands up from her work as they darken suddenly from blue to black.

Mass pandemonium ensues as everyone leaps and scrambles away at the colour switch. Once she is satisfied as to the radius they give her and her patient, her hands return to their original blue glow and she goes back to restoring the lady’s health. “Forgive them, they mean well.” She looks at Wilhelmina, “Could you pass her that water skin?”

“Sorry,” Jadeite says, having dropped it when he ran away with the others, “but you did have your murder hands on.”

“Murder hands?!” asks the new lady.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m helping you recover,” Amidala says, pulling her hands away and deactivating her magic. “Aren’t you feeling a little better?”

The stranger blinks a few times and then sits up. “I am, actually, thank you.” She spies the water flask in Wilhelmina’s hands. “Might I have another sip?”

“Drink as much as you like, we’ll refill it at the inn in a few minutes, anyway.”

“Thank you,” the lady says, and then guzzles it down like there’s a time limit.

“We should continue on to the inn, you can rest there,” Endymion suggests. “Can you make it? It’s just around the next bend but it’s somewhat of a steep incline.”

“I can try.” The lady stands up, using Wilhelmina’s arm as a prop. “Ooh, you’re quite solid.” 

“I’m a Valkyrie.”

“Ah,” the lady says, “that would explain the invisible wings. My name’s- _whoops_!”

Both Amidala and Wilhelmina instinctively reach out, catching the lady from either side before she collapses onto the ground. “Perhaps you can leave me here for a little bit and I’ll meet up with you later to return the water flask?” she suggests, clearly embarrassed at her inability to remain stable.

“Don’t be silly, we can’t leave you here alone! Maladive can carry you, right, Mal?” Serenity turns to the gargoyle for confirmation. “It’d be far less suspicious than Mina flying her there.”

“Of course.” In one smooth motion he bends low and sweeps the lady off her feet, laying her bridal-style in his arms. “Comfortable?” he asks, adjusting her slightly. 

“Oh,” she breathes, finally getting a good look at his face from under his hood. “You’re cursed, too.”

“It’s a long story,” Endymion says. 

“Yes,” Serenity adds, “and one best told over lunch.”

“Agreed,” he grins, and leads the party along the path.

* * *

By the time they reach the inn, the lady in Maladive’s arms is fast asleep. Fortunately, the Golden View has indeed taken a sharp downturn in customers, just as Endymion predicted it had, and thus has plenty of spare rooms on the cheap. 

They splash out for one with a balcony (upon which Maladive immediately disrobes in suitably dramatic fashion, turning himself instantly to stone) and a double bed, allowing their rescuee a chance to rest comfortably while also leaving room for Areis to nap with her (with the promise, of course, that she won’t go anywhere near the mysterious lady’s blood vessels). 

In the meantime the rest of the party gorge themselves on what was once considered to be very fine dining, and spend the long afternoon hours discussing what their plan of action should be now that all eight cursed beings and the reincarnated queen have actually made it to Lunar.

By late evening, however, not a single decision has been made, with one exception: it is agreed by all present that the issue requires further discussion, specifically over dinner (Serenity’s idea), and with a good amount of wine (everyone else’s). 

Zhazakhim flags down a barman and has him pour another round for everyone. “I know Niho was kidding before about tossing Nitty over the border, but perhaps there’s some merit to it.” 

“Hey!”

He rolls his eyes. “Calm down, I don’t mean we’re just going to throw you in blind… although, I don’t see why you’re mad, at worst you’d get to take a very long nap. I’d have thought that sort of thing would appeal to you.” 

“It doesn’t if it means I never wake up. Excuse me-” Serenity tries to get the barman’s attention while he’s pouring Zhazakhim’s drink, “Excuse me? Could you fill this a little m- hey- _Urgh_ ,” she huffs, “never mind.”

Wilhelmina nudges her with her beer mug before bringing it to her lips. “Have you _ever_ managed to divert a human’s attention away from Zak when he’s got them in a thrall?”

Serenity sighs. “No.”

“Know when you’re beaten.”

“Do you?” Nihoru asks, butting in. 

“No,” Wilhelmina winks, “but that’s because I always win.”

Nihoru grins and then lifts his own mug to clink with hers. 

“Good evening.”

The entire table turns to the new voice, finding their rescuee, along with Maladive and Areis, making their way to the table.

“Welcome!” Serenity practically leaps from her seat, nearly toppling it over in her exuberance. “Come sit with me, I’ve saved you a space,” she says, shoving a rickety chair away to give the lady room to join her. “Good evening you two,” she adds, waving at the others. “I hope you got some rest!”

“Nitty,” Areis acknowledges with a warm smile and a small nod, “good evening.”

“Did you not eat yet?” Maladive asks, seeing the innkeeper balancing a large plate of cut chicken, another of duck, and two vegetable side dishes along both his arms as he manoeuvres his way towards their table. 

“We did,” Serenity answers, “but that was a late lunch. It’s dinner time now and we knew you’d be hungry.” 

Maladive stares at the empty seat reserved for him at the end of the table, assessing its ability to hold his weight. “So the food is all for us?” he asks, using the seriousness of his face to hide his teasing. “That’s very considerate of you, after today’s little adventure I am famished.” Deciding that he doesn’t want to risk the embarrassment of the old wooden stool collapsing under him, he moves it aside and sits on the floor instead. The table reaches just about mid chest level when he settles into his new position, which seems to suit him fine. 

“Oh,” she says, trying not to sound greedy while practically drooling over the dishes that the innkeeper’s setting down in front of her, “then it’s a good thing we ordered a lot.”

“You’re right,” he smiles, sharp teeth gleaming as he does, “it _is_ quite a lot. I don’t think we could possibly eat all of it. Why don’t you have some?”

Serenity reaches for a duck breast before he’s even finished his offer. “ _Well,_ ” she says, “if you insist… don’t want it to go to waste.” She grabs a chicken drumstick with the other hand and places it on the new lady’s plate. “One for me,” she says, “and one for you. I hope you like dark meat, you seem like a thighs and drumsticks kind of person.”

“Oh,” the lady’s taken by surprise, “how did you know?”

“She has a sixth sense when it comes to food; it’s eerily accurate,” Pomako says from the opposite side of the table. She reaches over and begins piling vegetables onto the new lady and Serenity’s plates. “Are you feeling better?” 

“I am, thanks to you all. My friends call me Trista, by the way.”

“Oh,” Serenity interrupts, “you’re right! I’m so sorry! Everything happened so fast we didn’t even have time to introduce ourselves. But please,” she says, noticing Trista’s food is still untouched, “you must be starving. Eat.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for the introductions.”

“There’s no need to stand ceremoniously-”

“Stand _on_ ceremony,” Areis corrects.

“Right, that. If there’s anyone who understands the compelling demands of the hungry belly, it’s me.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

Serenity shoves another chicken drumstick directly into Trista’s hand. “My name’s Serenity, but everyone just calls me Nitty. This is Endymion, he’s a human like me.”

The man in question looks up from his conversation with Jadeite and Nihoru. “There are other ways to describe me, you know.”

“None that are complementary, and we have a guest.” 

He grunts in lieu of a response and sourly tries to resume his conversation, only to find that the other two have stopped talking and are waiting to be introduced by Serenity, too. 

Meanwhile, Trista is doing her best to eat in a manner that doesn’t resemble a ravenous wolf, but she’s doing a poor job of it. To her credit, Serenity doesn’t even bat an eye and barrels on. “You’re already familiar with Areis, our vampire, and Maladive the gargoyle.”

“Yes,” Trista says from behind the hand she’s using to cover a mouthful of potato, “very courteous roommates, both. This is really quite delicious, won’t you have some?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Serenity takes the bowl of mash being handed to her and scoops a generous amount onto her plate. “This is Pomako - she’s an ouktazaung.”

Not wanting to reach all the way across the food now that it’s been served, Pomako gives a little wave and a smile instead of offering her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you formally,” she says. 

But Trista’s frowning as she chews on some green beans. “Pomako,” she mumbles, trying to remember something. “Pomako… I- I know that name.”

“That’s a common reaction,” she says, “don’t worry, it’ll come to you eventually.”

It comes to her rather quickly. “Tell me, do you have any relation to Pomako the pirate queen?”

“I am the very same.”

“But that was over fifty years ago!” 

She smiles indulgently. “I’ve been cursed for a very long time.”

“Well, well,” Trista sits back, impressed, “to think I’m sharing dinner with the woman who sailed through the Great Eye of Jupiter and came out of it unscathed. That’s something indeed.” 

“The Great Eye of Jupiter?” Serenity asks, not understanding. 

“There’s an area in the Southern Ocean where a perpetual hurricane has resulted in the creation of a giant, permanent whirlpool,” Jadeite explains. “It’s been electrified by a constant barrage of lightning, and because the soil underneath is an iron-rich clay, it’s turned the water blood red.”

“ _Moh-my-gawpsh!_ ” Serenity exclaims, while also chewing through a hunk of bread and cheese. “ _Bats tewiffying!_ ”

“How about not trying to converse with a full mouth?”

“Sowwuh,” she says swallowing, and then chases it down with a loud glug of beer. “Sorry, I’m just so hungry today, we did so much walking!” She takes another bite of bread. 

“You’re always hungry.” Pomako grins broadly and adds another scoop of vegetables to the girl’s plate. “Make sure you eat your greens.”

Serenity doesn’t hesitate, picking up a broccoli floret and shoving that in her mouth, too. To the benefit of everyone at the table, however, she waits until she can talk clearly before she speaks again. “You’re going to have to share your pirate stories later.” 

“There are quite a few, and some are pretty gruesome.”

“If you’re trying to discourage me, you’re doing a lousy job of it. Ooh, did you make anyone walk the plank?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying this evening?” 

“She is,” Jadeite says, since it’s his turn to tutor her, “modern languages.”

At the reminder Serenity scrunches her face. “Oh, not tonight! Besides, the study timetable wouldn’t apply anymore, would it? I mean, we’re _at_ the Lunar Kingdom’s actual border.” In an effort to avoid the topic, she introduces him next. “This is Jade, he brings us good luck when he’s not trying and bad luck when he is, but that doesn’t always seem to work. To be honest, we don’t really understand his curse. _Apparently,_ he also grants wishes, but I’ve yet to see it happen.”

“I’m a djinn,” he explains with a mildly disappointed sigh, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Trista nods politely. “The pleasure is mine.”

“So, about that timetable-” Jadeite tries, but Serenity doesn’t let him finish. 

“Let’s see, who’s next?” She scans the table quickly. “Oh, that’s Pomako’s boyfriend, Nihoru.”

“Zombie,” he says, “can’t die. Bloodworms.”

“Right,” Trista says, “that should be easy enough to remember.”

“And this is Zhazakhim, the incubus.”

Unable to help himself he reaches across his introducer, intending to take Trista’s hand and bring it to his lips. “May I?”

Serenity watches as Trista hesitates to acquiesce, neither wanting to give him any of her qi, nor wishing to offend her hosts. “Maybe not while she’s still recovering?” she says, saving their guest from needing to make the decision. 

He thinks about it, realising that she’s probably right, “Fair enough.” He pulls back and then looks at the cursed fairy sitting next to him. “You remember our brilliant and fierce Amidala?” 

“Yes,” Trista says, nodding emphatically, “how could I forget? I am entirely in your debt.”

Always bashful when people make a fuss over her, Amidala ducks her head slightly as she dips her eyes. “You’re very welcome, I’m glad I could help.”

“Ami’s a changeling,” Serenity says, “and she’s amazing and kind - except when she has her murder hands on, then she’s terrifying - but she’s also the smartest person I’ve ever met!”

“Oh,” Trista’s whole countenance saddens, “I’m so sorry about your people.”

“Thank you,” Amidala says with warm grace. She’s used to Trista’s reaction - it’s the same as that of nearly every stranger who finds out what she is (the kind ones, anyway. Sometimes the reactions are not so polite, but she’s used to those, too). She readies herself for the follow-up question that their guest is sure to ask:

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you survive?”

There it is. “I don’t mind at all, but I am a little embarrassed about it, to be honest. I wasn’t in the fairy realm when the weapon was released because I was… in the process of luring,” she admits, and then because she doesn’t think it should be sugar coated, “by that I mean I was hunting humans to feed my kinsmen with.”

“Ah,” Trista says, understanding. “If I had time I would ask you so many questions.”

“Are you in a rush?” Wilhelmina asks, genuinely curious, “Is that how you ended up on that ledge?”

That prompts Serenity into making the final introduction. “This is Mina and she’s a Valkyrie and she’s the best sword fighter to have ever existed in the whole world.”

“My heroine,” Trista says before Wilhelmina can protest, “one of several who saved me from certain death. It’s very nice to meet you indeed.”

She smiles kindly as Maladive passes her the bread bowl. “It was no trouble at all,” she says, taking one and passing it on. “To be honest, it was Nitty who heard you calling for help.”

Trista looks at the woman sitting next to her. “Really?”

Her surprise is dismissed with a _pfft_ and a nonchalant wave. “All of us would have heard you eventually, I just happened to be the first. You’re lucky Mina’s one of our company, though, because I have no idea how we would have saved you otherwise. You were so far down, no one could see you, not even Rei, and Rei can see _everything_. Mina made your rescue look so easy!”

Trista nods emphatically. “I thought I was done for this time, really done for, I mean,” she turns to Wilhelmina, “but then you appeared, and I believed I was dead and being led away to… well, wherever it is we go in the end, and to be honest, with you taking me there I didn’t mind at all.” 

“Yes,” Serenity agrees, “our Mina’s the prettiest Valkyrie I’ve ever seen- I mean, not that I’ve _met_ any other Valkyries, but I’m sure if I did, I’d still say the same.”

“I have encountered a few in my time, so I can confirm you’re very right,” Trista says, “but when I realised what was really happening - that I was in fact, not dead but being rescued - I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad in all my life.”

Wilhelmina’s doing something she hasn’t done in a long while, and everyone on the table notices. She’s blushing. “It really was no trouble at all,” she repeats, her voice soft.

“Mina’s curse means that she doesn’t get to save many strangers,” Serenity explains. “It’s normally the other way around.”

“Oh,” Trista says, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“She saves _us_ everyday,” Maladive says.

The entire table stops. 

He’s frozen in panic, body stiff and eyes the size dinner plates. “By that- by that,” he stutters, “by that, of course,” he clears his throat, “I mean that-” he looks at his mug, “of course that in actual...” he picks it up, “Mm, yes, good wine,” he says as he downs the alcohol and swiftly pours himself another, downing that, too. 

Pomako is silently screaming at Amidala in excitement, violently shaking poor Areis’ arm as she does, while Wilhelmina stares at Maladive in wonder. 

Zhazakhim’s just about to open his mouth (to say something scandalous, no doubt) when Trista steps in and saves him. “I’m sure Mina does,” she says, “and today she saved me, too. You all did actually, and I am eternally your friend because of it.” She raises her cup and the table responds in kind (except for Maladive, who has decided that it’s just more efficient to drink straight from the jug and thus uses that for the toast, instead). “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” 

“To new friends and interesting stories! Speaking of interesting stories,” Serenity says in an attempt at a subtle segue, “now that we’ve gotten to know each other, could you tell us how you ended up on that ledge? I’ve been _dying_ to find out all evening.”

“In that case, I’m happy to tell you. As Mina already deduced, I was in a great hurry, and unfortunately it led me to making insensible decisions: having run behind on an important mission I thought I would take a shortcut.”

“Off a cliff?” Serenity asks. 

Trista smiles, already charmed by the young woman. “That was an unintended consequence of travelling at night, with no light source on my person, along a high road and with an unlaced boot. I basically tripped over my own feet.”

“Oh dear,” Serenity says, “that sounds like something I would do.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Maladive teases in the guise of a warning. The wine it seems - drunk in such quantity and so speedily - has relaxed him considerably, “not all of us can swoop in and save you if you tumble down a ravine.”

“But _you_ can,” she says knowingly, emboldened by his earlier burst of affection, “and you would, just like Mina did today, right?” she looks at the Valkyrie with a mischievous grin before turning back to Maladive. “You’re such a fast flier that you’d reach the bottom before I did and you’d catch me in those big strong arms of yours!” 

He tries not to preen at the praise, he really does, but his chiselled cheeks crinkle slightly at the corners of his mouth and he lifts his eyes to see if Wilhelmina’s agreed with her fellow blonde. 

He finds that she’s looking openingly at him again, a warm smile on her lips. “He would,” she says, eyes firmly on his, “and he’d look magnificent as he did.”

“Oh,” he says, his grey cheeks aflame with wine and mortification, “you heard that.”

“I didn’t,” she admits, “but Rei did and she told Nitty who told me on the way over here.”

He cuts his eyes to the traitorous vampire, knowing full well that she knows Serenity can't keep a secret, even if her life depends on it. Areis merely nods her head, as if she’s somehow done him a favour, a small, sly smile on her lips.

“What’s your mission?” he asks Trista, eager to divert attention away from this semi-confession and the terribly embarrassing corner he’s backed himself into. 

“Yes,” Serenity says, her exuberance saving him by effectively cutting off anyone else who may well have further comments to make on the situation, “maybe we can help!”

“Don’t go making promises we might not be able to keep.” Nihoru reaches over to take the plate of chicken, dumping a thigh on Endymion’s as he does, and then leans back in his chair to talk to the barman passing behind him. “Can we get some more wine?” he asks though he’s looking directly at Maladive. The gargoyle grins sheepishly, and then offers him the (empty) jug in pseudo apology.

“Well, we’re certainly not solving our problem,” Serenity notes. “Maybe helping Trista will help us?”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you,” Trista says, “I’m trying to break a curse first, so that I can then fulfil a prophecy in a way that ends positively. It’s a lot.”

“It does sound complicated,” Serenity’s not exactly sure she’s understood, “but that’s alright. Ours is a little complicated, too. We’re also trying to break a curse. Why don’t you tell us your story?”

Trista hesitates, suddenly wary, but it seems as if her desire to please her rescuers takes precedence over whatever it is that gives her pause, so she reaches into the cloak she’s rested on the back of her rickety chair and pulls out a beautifully decorated hand mirror. “There are a pair of lovers who have lost each other,” she begins. 

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Serenity says, “Mina, play something for us, please.”

“On it!” The Valkyrie seemingly pulls a lute out from nowhere and begins plucking quick chords. “And I know just the song for the occasion. _Sí,”_ she starts, _“sabes que ya llevo-”_

“As much as I enjoy your singing, my friend, might we wait until after dinner to hear you?” Areis interrupts politely. “I’ve only recently awoken and my faculties are still a little… sensitive. Especially since I have yet to feed.”

Wilhelmina tuts. “Fine. Who’s on the rota for tonight?” she asks, turning to Endymion.

“Let me see.” He reaches into the sack hooked onto his chair and rummages until he finds a beaten up piece of parchment, folded several times over. From the look of it, it’s been handled countless times, over many years. “We’re going to have to transcribe this onto another sheet soon, this one’s falling apart and I can barely read it...” he squints as he tries to decipher the name which, unfortunately, happens to have been written just on a fold. “Amidala,” he announces eventually.

“Oh,” the changeling sighs, “is there anyone who’d be willing to switch? Today’s adventure took a good amount of energy out of me.”

“I volunteer,” Zhazakhim says before anyone else has a chance.

Nihoru rolls his eyes. “ _I’ll_ swap with you, Ami. I think it’s my turn tomorrow, anyway.”

Seeing the confusion on Trista’s face as she listens to the conversation, Serenity explains. “To sustain herself Areis has to drink blood. She has to either suck a lot every so often or a very little every day, so we take it in turns to feed her and we’ve made a daily rota to keep track. That way no one dies, including her.”

Areis opens her mouth to protest, but finds that she can’t really argue with that explanation. 

“The only one who isn’t on the rota is Zak, because he’s an incubus.”

“Ah,” Trista says, and then shakes her head before looking to Areis for an explanation. “I’m sorry, I’m lost.”

“The experience of feeding is mildly-” Areis is interrupted by a snort from Zhazakhim, “-sensual,” she continues, ignoring him, “for both me and the person I am feeding off of.”

“By ‘mild’, she means absolutely _transcendent_.”

“It’s not _that_ great,” Jadeite cuts in, “we think Zak’s more affected by it because of his curse.”

“The effects are amplified for the both of us when it’s him,” Areis admits. 

“I see,” Trista nods, understanding, “as you feed off of him, his curse heightens the experience and activates his own feeding process.”

“Exactly,” Areis says. “Any benefit I obtain from his blood is immediately taken back as he involuntarily absorbs my increasing qi.”

“We’re actually not sure it’s involuntary,” Jadeite corrects, but he does so this time with a good natured grin aimed at the incubus. 

“How fascinating,” Trista says. “Do you mind if I document this?”

“I’m fine with it,” Zhazakhim tilts his head to the vampire, “but I don’t know about the lady. Rei does like to keep things close to the chest.”

“As cursed beings we’ve always got to be cautious,” Wilhelmina explains curtly, “there are always people ready to try and kill us. The more they know, the easier it is for them.”

“This time I don’t mind,” Areis says. “We’ve all made it to Lunar, so I’m not going to be a vampire for much longer.”

Areis is never one to show much open emotion, especially when it’s one as vulnerable as hope, but it’s there, plain as day for all to see. Serenity’s stomach immediately sinks at the sight of it. It seems like all her friends are counting on her, but she feels more lost than any of them. _How could anyone actually expect me to be a queen?_ In desperation she turns to Endymion and realises he looks just as worried as she does. _Idiot_. This is all his stupid fault. He’s the one who dragged her into this mess. 

“Are you here for the Lunar curse?” Trista asks.

“Something like that,” Maladive says, picking up on Wilhelmina’s caution and the sudden downturn in the humans’ moods, “but you never finished your story. Your pair of lovers have lost each other?”

“Ah yes, you’re right,” she says. “It’s very sad, they’ve been cursed to search for each other but are always too late to meet.”

“Like ships,” Zhazakhim says, “passing each other in the night.”

“Oh,” Trista touches her hand to her chest, “that’s a very romantic notion, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Although, I suppose it’s only romantic if it ends well…”

“So, how _do_ you plan to break their curse?” Serenity looks at the mirror she pulled out earlier. “Does that have anything to do with it?”

“It does indeed. You see, it will show the owner anyone they want to find and can even teleport them there instantly!”

“If that’s the case…” Amidala says, “well, I’m sure you know what I’m about to ask.”

“Ah, yes,” Trista nods, “that's a good question, and the answer is that I’m not the owner of the mirror. One of the lovers is, which means she’s the only one who can use it. In her last letter she said she would be staying at this very inn until yesterday, and I thought... if I could just get to her before she left for another location, and if I could just give her the mirror, then everything would work out. Alas, their curse thwarted me and I ended up on the ledge.”

Serenity is hooked on the story. “So how did you become involved in all of this?”

“I’m a cursed being, too.”

“I _knew_ it!” Nihoru says.

“Yes,” Pomako says, patting him on his knee, “well done dear.”

He snorts and nudges her playfully with his elbow. 

“I was a diviner before I was cursed,” Trista explains, “which means I could go to sleep and dream about things that hadn’t happened yet, but now whenever people ask me about their futures, my answers are perfectly accurate but it’s always bad news.”

“Oh,” Zhazakhim says carefully, “how bad?”

“It depends, sometimes it’s a mild inconvenience, but for the two lovers - and our entire world, to be honest - it’s potentially catastrophic.”

Serenity gasps. 

“The lovers are old friends of mine, we knew each other before they were cursed but I hadn’t seen either of them in some time. By chance, in what I initially believed to be a bout of good luck, I ran into one of them - not the one who this mirror was meant for - and while we were chatting together over drinks and lamenting over our shared pains of being cursed, she happened to mention that she wished she knew ‘what the future held for all of us’,” she shakes her head solemnly at the memory, “apparently that was enough to trigger _my_ curse. I then had to tell my friend that she and her lost lover were now involved in a doom prophecy.”

_“No! Not a doom prophecy!”_

_“How terrifying!”_

_“A doom prophecy, can you believe it?”_

_“A doom prophecy!”_

“What’s a doom prophecy?” Serenity asks, but she’s drowned out by all the reactions from the others on the table. 

_“It just hit you? One line and it triggered a doom prophecy? That can happen? Just like that?”_

_“Doom prophecies can strike anywhere, at any time!”_

“Look,” Serenity demands loudly, “If no one is going to explain what a stupid doom prophecy is then I’m just going to assume the worst.”

“In that case you’ll probably have an accurate idea of what to expect,” Zhazakhim says. 

“ _What?_ ” Serenity’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, though,” he says. “From my experience you only really have to worry about a doom prophecy if it’s the only one currently in operation.”

“There’s more than one?!”

“There is,” he says, “which is reassuring actually. You see, if there’s more than one then that means they have to end up being not so bad, because otherwise the other ones wouldn’t be able to come true.” 

“I- I don’t understand.”

Sometimes with Serenity it can take a few tries before she gets it, not that he minds at all. “If one doom prophecy predicts the ‘end of the world’ on Monday and another predicts the ‘end of the world’ on Tuesday, then the one on Monday can’t actually involve the _entire_ world ending because then the second prophecy couldn’t come to pass.”

“Oh,” she says, but she’s frowning quite hard. She’s almost there, but it’s the sheer panic that’s making things difficult.

“The ‘world’ in that case would be a metaphor,” he continues, “or have an alternative meaning.”

“Oh!” she says, finally getting it. “But that still sounds quite bad. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the fae-pocalypse had a doom-prophecy.”

“It did,” Zhakzakhim says, impressed with her astuteness. 

“But Ami survived,” she gasps as something occurs to her, “does that mean there’s a way of stopping a prophecy from coming true?”

“Oh, no. Prophecies can never, ever be avoided.” He leaves further explanation to Amidala, since it’s her story to tell. 

“I was only spared because I’m not really a fairy but a cursed human, and because it seems my fate was tied to yours and Dimi’s.”

“Prophecies are very often interpreted incorrectly,” Zhazakhim continues, “thus leading to the people involved taking certain actions which inevitably end up fulfilling their prophecy.”

“There’s usually some big twist,” Pomako chimes in, knowing a little bit about these things herself, “like ‘the treasure needed to save the world was actually just the love you found along the way’, or ‘the end of the world as you know it’ really means your perspective on life fundamentally changes.”

Serenity’s face visibly brightens at the idea of doom prophecies not being quite so dire as they initially seemed. 

“Or,” continues Pomako, “it’s referring to one single society - like the fairies - or maybe just your family, and they’ll be the only ones to perish rather than absolutely everyone.”

Serenity’s face is no longer so bright. “That sounds _awful_.”

“They are called doom-prophecies for a reason. Now, if there’s only _one_ doom-prophecy out there that’s the one you really have to worry about,” she thinks about it, “or if there are several and they _all_ refer to the exact same thing happening at the exact same time.”

“That’s known as the ‘ultimate apocalypse’ prophecy,” Zhazakhim explains, “and it’s entirely theoretical.”

“I see you’re also students of curse theory,” Trista realises, looking between them. “Now I really wish I could spend more time with you all, I’d have loved to hear your thoughts on a few things.”

“Zak is the expert,” Pomako says humbly, “I’m just very well travelled.”

“Nonsense,” Zhazakhim is never one to let credit slip by when it’s due, “you’re far more than that. You were a brilliant academic at one point.”

“You had a much more illustrious career than I did, and besides, it was a long time ago.”

“As it was for me,” he says, and then looks at Trista to explain. “We taught at the same university for a time, though we were in different departments and I only knew Mako through her reputation as one of the rising stars of academia.”

“What was your specialty?” Trista asks, genuinely interested to know more about Pomako’s history. 

“Advanced botanical and chemical compound sciences.”

“Potion making?” She seems very excited. “Will I have read any of your papers?”

“Alright, yes,” Serenity is clearly uncomfortable (and somewhat confused) with all this talk about the end of the world, “everyone knows that we’re all very talented and clever, but maybe we should focus on finding out more details about this doom-prophecy.”

Trista’s mouth quirks into an awkward line. “It was a tricky one to decipher actually, a real rascal, but I did eventually figure it out. Put simply: in order to prevent certain global doom, my friends must adopt and raise a particular girl, who happens to be very troubled. The snag is that since they’re cursed never to meet, they can’t actually do that, and the doom-prophecy says that if she’s not brought up in a loving, well-nurtured and happy environment, it’ll awaken the Great, Great Darkness within her.”

“Oh dear,” Amidala says, “I’ve heard of the Great, Great Darkness. That won’t be good for anybody.”

“Can’t you send the girl to be raised by other people? Couldn’t _you_ raise her?” Serenity is very eager to come up with solutions. “Can’t someone just go by her house every so often and give her a hug?”

“The wording is, unfortunately, quite specific on this. It has to be those particular lovers.” She huffs, frustrated. “If I could just get this mirror to Michi then she’d be able to teleport to Haruka and that would break their curse. If I manage to achieve that, then there’s enough wiggle room in the prophecy for them to find the girl and raise her as their own, and that _should_ avoid the planet’s destruction.”

“Well, now I’m really confused.”

“There’s no point worrying about it, it’s not our prophecy to bear,” Wilhelmina says, having been strumming very lightly on her lute as she’s listened. “Even so, is there anything we can do to help?”

Trista shakes her head. “I don’t think you can. The prophecy was also specific as to who would be involved, which is downright rude of it, if you ask me. It makes things far more difficult than they have to be. If it did allow for anyone else’s input, I would have very much accepted your kind offer. Thank you, in any case.”

“I wonder…” Serenity turns to Endymion. “Do you reckon our prophecy’s got a twist? Or… what did you call it?” she looks to Trista, “wiggle room?”

“Oh dear,” her eyes widen in horror. “Oh dear, oh dear. I’m very sorry. I’m so sorry! I- I didn’t think, I-”

“What is it?” Endymion asks, alarmed at Trista’s sudden behaviour. 

“Damn,” Wilhelmina says, “you know something.”

“What?” Serenity’s giving herself whiplash as she looks between her friend and their guest. “What does she know?”

“I’m sorry,” Trista repeats, “it often happens like this.”

“ _What_ happens?”

“My curse.” She slumps into her seat. “I never ask people if they’re involved in a prophecy, and I don’t usually talk about mine, just in case it brings up the topic, but after the events of today and the interesting conversation... oh, I’ve been very careless, very careless indeed, and now my curse has just-”

“It’s alright,” Maladive says, “tell us.”

“No, don’t!” Serenity panics, having finally picked up on what’s going on. 

Maladive reaches over and pats her gently on the arm in reassurance. “It’s better to know the details. Since it’s going to be bad news we might as well know, then we can mitigate the damage as best we can.”

“We’ve spent all day trying to figure out our next move and we’ve gotten nowhere,” Endymion admits. “This will at least give us some guidance, though I suspect we’re going to need more wine in order to cope.” It’s not like any of this quest has run smoothly. 

As if on cue the barman comes back with a large flagon of wine. 

Not everyone is so accepting, however. “Great,” Nihoru grouses, “we’re practically at the finish line and you want to sabotage our quest by getting us involved with someone else’s bad luck?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Wilhelmina asks. 

“No, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” His scowl only softens when he sees how dejected Trista looks. “Look, no offence to you, but we don’t know you and you don’t know us. How can we even trust what you have to say?” He lifts his mug to be filled first. 

“ _Rude_ ,” Serenity says and then looks at their guest sheepishly, “he does have a point, though.”

Trista seems to take the criticism in her stride. “Your prophecy, it involves the Lunar Kingdom, does it not?”

“Yes,” Wilhelmina says, “but we already mentioned that to you this evening.”

She nods, acknowledging the point, and then launches into more detail to prove to them that she’s telling the truth, “Endymion was sent on a quest to collect eight cursed beings who, in turn, would help him locate the reincarnated Queen- that’s you,” she says to Serenity, “the aim of which is to restore you to your rightful place on the Lunarian throne.”

“A-ha,” Nihoru says, “we didn’t help Dimi locate diddly squat. We just wandered around and met people along the way.”

“That denial is a stretch,” Jadeite says, “and you know it.”

“Didn’t we stop at the inn where Zak was living because your leg had been bitten off by a banshee and you needed a place to recover?” Maladive asks, “and didn't we only find Nitty because Rei tried to eat her younger brother?”

“She _what_?”

“Water under the bridge,” Areis says quickly, dismissing the shock on Serenity’s face, “I didn’t even puncture skin.”

“What’s your point?” Nihoru demands. 

“My point, good zombie, is that Jadeite is right. We _did_ help Endymion locate the queen,” Maladive says, “in our own way. Everything we’ve done so far has furthered the boy’s quest.”

“Whatever.” Nihoru looks at Trista expectantly, giving her permission to continue.

“Now that you have found your queen, the curse on the kingdom can finally be broken and the cloud of misery lifted from you all.”

“Wait.” Nihoru leans suddenly onto the table, concern making his voice a little aggressive, “what’s this about a cloud of misery?”

Serenity scoffs. “ _You’re_ the one asking that question?” 

“Hold on,” Maladive also sounds concerned, “he’s got a point. There’s a big difference between lifting a cloud of misery and lifting _curses_.”

“There is?”

Endymion immediately tries to calm everyone down. “I assure you there were absolutely no clouds involved whatsoever, the prophecy was quite specific: _‘To break the Lunar Kingdom’s sleeping curse you must travel with eight cursed beings who will, in turn, help you to find and awaken the rightful ruler of the throne, a reincarnated queen, serene as the moon. In exchange for their aid in your quest, the cursed beings will be freed, once and for all, from the misery of their curses.’_ That was the exact language used.”

For the second time this evening there is an abrupt shock of silence. This time, however, the atmosphere is altogether less pleasant and much more serious; _this_ is the reaction Serenity was expecting when Trista announced that she was part of a doom prophecy - if anything her friends seem more upset now, and that sets her on edge. There’s clearly something wrong with what Endymion’s just told them, but she’s not sure what it is. She doesn’t think it’s the part that references her, although she’s not too confident about that, either. _Serene as the moon? Awakening me? What does that even mean?_ From the look on her friends’ faces, from their lack of saying _anything_ at all, it’s got to have something to do with their own curses. 

Zhazakhim is the first to speak. “There’s… there’s a lot of room to play in that,” he says thickly. 

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, Endymion, there bloody well is!” Nihoru insists, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Being free of the _misery_ of our curses? That can have all sorts of connotations! I _knew_ there was a catch to this, it was just too good to be true.” He sounds furious but it’s obvious to everyone that he’s more upset than anything. 

At their reactions, that sinking feeling Serenity felt before returns with a spiteful vengeance.

“The truth is, your personal curses will definitely not be lifted if Serenity awakens Lunar,” Trista states. 

Her stomach hits the floor.

“ _Not_ be lifted?” Amidala repeats, seeking confirmation that she’s heard it correctly. 

“Indeed. In fact - and it brings me no pleasure to say this - waking Lunar actually guarantees that you will all remain cursed, permanently.”

“ _What?_ ” Nihoru’s gripping the table so hard his knuckles are white. “You’ve got to be wrong!”

“You must be mistaken,” Areis says. “That cannot be right.”

“I truly wish I wasn’t. But Endymion, didn’t you dream about a red rose in a black city? Which is then plucked from its garden and taken on a journey to find eight colourful, yet cracked, crystals?”

“Yes,” Endymion begins to pale, “how did you know that?”

“Diviner.”

“Oh, yes,” he says quickly, “yes of course.”

“And when the ninth crystal is discovered, it is silver?”

Serenity can hear him swallowing from all the way at her end of the table. “It is,” he says. 

“And then it lights up the entire city and repairs the colourful crystals until they’re perfect, but still the same, yes? Nothing different about them except for them being whole?”

“No…” whispers Maladive. 

“Oh,” says Endymion, “oh. I get the metaphor now.”

“So, wait,” Wilhelmina says, trying to wrap her head around all of this. “Wait, wait, wait.” She doesn’t seem to get very far. “Wait.”

“If that’s what you really saw in the dream,” Zhazakhim says, “then combined with the prophecy you also heard...” he trails off, unable to bring himself to finish. 

“It’s pretty clear what the answer is.” Pomako sighs and leans into Nihoru for comfort, who wraps an arm around her shoulders in return, pulling her a little closer. 

“Oh no,” Serenity says as she finally understands. Trista’s right, they’ll stay cursed forever. This really _is_ devastating news for all of her friends. 

They sit in silence for a little while longer, processing this discovery, at a loss for anything else to say. Eventually Areis moves, shifting in her seat as she clears her throat. “In that case-” she stops as she takes her time to compose herself, “perhaps it’s not such a good idea to document your findings about us after all, Ms Trista,” she gently pushes her chair away from the table and stands up, “especially when it looks like I’m going to remain a vampire for the foreseeable future. Excuse me,” she says and then leaves the room quickly.

“Rei!” Serenity rushes to follow, but she finds Jadeite holding up a hand to stop her. “Let her go for now, she needs her space.”

“But-”

“She’ll be alright,” he reassures, though he looks equally worried.

She doesn’t like it, but _everyone’s_ been hit with this news and she feels like she needs to stay to make sure she doesn’t miss anything. “Alright,” she says warily, her eyes following the vampire as she makes her way up the inn’s stairs. “You’re sure about this,” she asks, looking at her fellow human, “cracked crystals and a weird voice talking nonsense and miserable clouds or whatever?”

Endymion looks down and nods slowly.

Serenity’s on tender hooks as she scans the table. Everyone seems so upset, and she completely understands why - this changes everything, and all of a sudden that fear she’s had of losing her friends once she becomes queen is magnified tenfold. What’s to keep them all together now that their only reason for being on this quest has been obliterated? _No,_ she thinks, this isn’t about her. Her friends’ hope has just been dashed, and Dimi… _poor Dimi_ , he must be feeling downright awful right now. She looks over to him again. “So… so what do we do?” 

“I don’t know,” he fumbles, “I need time to think. We’ll figure something out, but I just- I just need a little time to-”

“How could you _do_ this to us, Endymion?” Zhazakhim demands. “How could you be so careless?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he asks, furious, “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Don’t you understand? This was my chance to-”

“Hey,” Serenity stands up and points at him, suddenly angry, “don’t blame Dimi for this! He might be a dimwit but it’s not like he’s some kind of professional prophecy interpreter person like Trista is!”

“Then who should we blame?” Nihoru demands. 

Her nostrils flare at the accusations. “You, you dummies! You’re all super old and so smart but none of you thought to ask him even _once_ what the prophecy actually said? You could have checked it out easily for yourselves!”

Nihoru doesn’t hesitate to fire back. “He was the one who approached us, this was his quest and he was the one in charge! Why _would_ we question his word?” 

“You do it all the time!”

“Bah,” he says, flicking his hand, “as a joke. Never seriously. Do you think I would have done any of this if I didn’t trust him?”

“Serves us right for believing in something so blindly.” Jadeite’s remark is said quietly but it’s clearly designed to cut deep. 

And it does: Endymion looks like he’s about to burst into tears. It has Serenity doing the same. “That’s a horrible thing to say! And totally unfair,” she says with a quivering voice, eyes pricking. “Dimi’s just doing his very best and you should support him better as his friends! What’s happened is not his fault. He’s put his whole heart into saving his homeland and I think that makes him a _great_ person, and even though he’s made a huge and devastating mistake it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t believe in him!”

Her passion seems to move Maladive into action. He stands up, too, and does a good job of not wobbling on his feet despite his mildly inebriated state. “We still do,” he announces, his voice serious, brokering no argument, “well, _I_ do anyway. Nitty’s right-” 

“I am?” She looks at him in surprise and then, emboldened by his support, she turns to the rest of the table. “I am,” she states firmly. 

“We’re all disappointed,” Maladive says, “some more than others I’m sure, but even so, it’s just as much our fault as it is his that we’re in this situation.”

While he speaks, Serenity glances over to Endymion and offers him a small but encouraging smile. She doesn’t leave him enough time to respond before she looks away but she can feel his eyes watching her and it warms her cheeks. 

“Alright,” says Jadeite, amidst a resigned huff. He’s always been the first to crack, never able to remain angry at anyone for longer than a few minutes, “you’ve made your point. So what do you suggest we do now?” 

Wilhelmina sighs and puts her lute down. “We figure out our next step. Now that we know what the true consequence of saving Lunar is, we decide what we’re each willing to do.”

“But, didn’t you say you can’t stop a prophecy?” Serenity asks, “do any of us really have that kind of choice?”

She raises a blonde eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be queen.”

“I don’t! It’s just… we’re altogether, and we’ve come so far. Not to mention all those people under that sleeping curse.”

“The girl’s right,” Maladive says. “The prophecy states we’re going to break the curse - we don’t have a choice about it, and there’s the greater good to think about.”

“It doesn’t say when,” Jadeite notes, “or how for that matter, so there is still some room for interpretation on the wording.” If there’s anyone who has experience with tricky phrasing, it’s him. His entire curse revolves around it. 

“There isn’t much,” Trista says, “you’re correct about timing being vague, but I am very sure of the rest.”

“Well, I for one don’t accept this,” Nihoru says. “Lifting my curse was the only reason I’ve been suffering through the past half decade-”

“ _‘Suffering’_ through?” Pomako interrupts, eyebrows raised in mild warning. 

He knows the look and it calms him enough for him to realise the implications of what he’s saying. A smile slides onto his face, indulgent but still sad, as he looks at the woman in his arms. “Alright,” he admits, “it hasn’t been all that bad.”

“No,” she says, “I’d even say it’s been pretty great.”

“Not during those first few years.”

Serenity’s face scrunches. They’re going into full flirtation mode now. She’s very glad she didn’t know them when they first became a couple - apparently they were _very_ _openly_ amorous, respect for other people’s eyes and ears be damned. By the time she’d joined the party, however, they’d settled into being an established couple who occasionally forgot that other people existed, and that those people maybe wanted to talk about things not related to Pomako and Nihoru’s great love. 

“What changed?” asks the ouktazoung, knowing _exactly_ what had changed. 

“You,” the zombie breathes, and then leans his forehead against hers. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says, and for a second it doesn’t seem like either of them are aware of anyone else in the room. 

He closes his eyes. “I’ll be like this forever, you know. Inhuman, alone.”

“Not alone,” she reassures, “and it’s not like I’ve ever cared about the fact that your skin’s a little green.”

“That’s not what bothers me and you know-”

Jadeite clears his throat, pulling them both out of their little bubble. Zhazakhim nudges him with his foot for interrupting the moment. “I was feeding off of that.”

“Of course you were.”

“The Luna Kingdom must come first,” Amidala says, drawing everyone back into serious conversation, “we’re only eight people, and our curses are not so terrible that we can’t live with them and still have better lives than most. The Lunarians, however, number in the hundreds of thousands, and none of them deserve what they’re suffering.” 

_She’s right,_ Serenity thinks, _and that means that I’m right, too, just like Maladive said._ But she knows it doesn’t make things any easier for her friends and it’s not like she’s even close to being in the same boat as them - she might end up as a queen once the curse is lifted, with all the pressure that entails, but she still has the choice to abdicate if she wants. She looks over to Endymion again and her heart bleeds for his predicament. Depending on the choice the others make, he’ll end up failing either his home or his friends. _What a mess you’ve made_ , _dear Dimi._

“I’m with Ami,” Jadeite says, “but my curse doesn’t affect me physically so that decision is easier to make for me than it might be for some of you.”

“I also agree with Ami,” Pomako says, “though, like Jade, I’m lucky: we have a way around my curse and everything I need is here,” she places a hand on Nihoru’s chest, “in a heart that beats, even if it’s only because of a parasite.”

Wilhelmina turns toward Maladive. “They may have been outbursts more than confessions, but of all the days to utter them, to do so today feels like fate.”

He looks at her, and then down to the hand she’s holding open on the table, waiting. With a deep sigh and a slump of his shoulders, he rests his large, grey claw on top. She nods once, smiling gently and then addresses the rest of the table. “We’re in.”

“As am I,” Areis announces, making her way down the stairs and gracefully returning to her seat. “I apologise for my absence.” Her face is a little puffy, but her eyes are clear and sure. 

“Well, I suppose immortality isn’t _that_ bad,” Zhazakhim looks over at Amidala, “perhaps we can treat this as a new adventure.” He catches her gaze but she looks away immediately. 

“I-” Nihoru stops himself, feeling Pomako’s eyes on him. “ _Urgh_ , I still don’t like this but, whatever. I’m in, too.”

Serenity does a quick count. “That makes it unanimous.”

“Great,” says Zhazakhim, “but the question remains the same: what do we do next?”

“Oh,” Trista says, “that’s easy enough. You all need to walk into Luna, together.”

Jadeite picks up the flagon of wine, offering it to those around him before pouring some for himself and passing it on. “Well that solves the ‘how’ at least.” 

“Thank you,” Endymion says, “all of you. And from the depth of my heart, I apologise.”

“There’s no need to do that,” Serenity says. 

“No, no, there is definitely a need,” Wilhelmina says, and then grins, “but you are most certainly forgiven. In the grand scheme of things, two years of travelling around with you misfits isn’t a lot of lost time.”

“More like five for me,” Nihoru gripes.

“And what else would you have done?” Serenity counters. 

“It’s not the time we’ve spent that’s the problem, Nitty,” Amidala explains gently. “It’s about this idea that we might never get rid of our curses. That’s going to take a little while longer to accept.”

“But until Dimi came along, you were stuck with your curses anyway!”

“And yet,” Areis starts, “I had begun to hope...” she sighs, “It doesn’t matter. We’re all just doing our best, and I cannot blame anyone for that. Although, I’ll happily take Dimi’s blood tonight, and save Niho for tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Endymion says, eager to make his grievous error up to his travel companions in any way he can. 

“You’re getting a raw deal,” Nihoru says, “if I remember correctly you only donated the day before last.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he answers. 

“Alright,” Wilhelmina says, slapping her hand on the table and startling at least three people. “Enough moping, I feel a _song_ coming on!”

“Oh boy,” Jadeite says. 

“Pomako, hand me my lute, please.” She’d slid it too far under the table when she’d last put it down, and now she can’t reach it. 

“Do I have to?”

“Oh,” Serenity says as she watches Pomako duck underneath to retrieve the instrument, “let her sing.”

“Thank you, Nitty.” Once she obtains the lute she picks at the strings. “It’s an original composition.”

“Oh no, I take it back!”

“Too late. Aaaaaaand a one and a two, and a one, two, three, four:

_We’re eating meat,_

_it’s such a treat!_

_We… uh, don’t like to do it with our feet!”_

“This?” Nihoru asks, leaning over so Maladive can hear him, “This is the one you love?” The latter offers him a low growl in response. 

_“But we have lots of feeeeeeea-_

_-tures, like:_

_Paws and claws and toes and a nose-_ Come on, everyone, sing!”

“Nobody knows the words, Mina!” Zhazakhim says. 

“- _Ears and tears and creepy little fears, and-_ you know what? It’s no fun if nobody joins in.”

Nihoru snorts, her antics putting him in an instantly better mood. “You’re making it up as you go along.”

“I thought we would riff off of each other.”

“You’re the worst bard I’ve ever heard.”

She rolls her eyes. “Blame the curse.” 

“I blame only your bad taste in music.”

“Can we go back to being mad at Dimi please?”

“No!” Both Endymion and Serenity yell in unison. 

“Fine!” she says and shoves the lute back under the table. “So, are we heading to the border altogether tomorrow?”

“I suppose so,” Maladive says, “We should be up early.”

“Noooooo!” Serenity wails, “If I’m going to be stuck ruling a whole country, the least I can do is get a lazy morning before it all starts!” She sounds absolutely devastated at the prospect. 

“You’ll be queen, Nitty,” Zhazakhim says, “you can make up whatever time you want to wake up.”

She perks up immediately. “Oooh, really?”

“No, she most certainly can _not!_ ” At first Amidala looks like she’s going to apologise for her outburst, but then her mouth tightens and a stern glower of determination settles on her features. 

“Woah,” Serenity says. Amidala actually looks more angry at this than she did about their curse news. 

“Technically, she can,” Zhazakhim says, contradicting her. “The Lunar Kingdom’s an autocratic state.”

“That has nothing to do with her sleeping schedule.”

“It does, my darling,” he says, “and you know it.”

The pet name, even in jest, has Amidala blush. 

“What’s an autocrat?”

“It means you’ll be a monarch with absolute authority over government and state. That includes your own sleeping schedule.”

“Huh,” Serenity says.

“Yes, _thank you_ for your contribution, Zak,” Amidala says in a way that makes Serenity think she’s not thanking him at all, “but having a sensible sleep pattern with reasonable morning hours is _highly encouraged,_ especially for a head of state.”

“Sure it is,” Serenity nods placatingly, “now about this absolute authority stuff, does that mean I can make you buy me a drink?” The flagon had finally made its way to her and was found to be completely empty. For effect she tips the jug into her glass, but nothing comes out. “Someone drank all the wine.”

That someone sips from his own (now filled) jug, his other claw still wrapped around Wilhelmina’s hand and his cheeks burning hot enough to warm the entire room. 

“But I’m not from Lunar,” is Zhazakhim’s answer, “and we’re not _in_ Lunar, either. You’re welcome to try and make me, though, Nitty-dear, and see how far that gets you.”

“So… no?”

“No.”

She pouts. “Please? I’m so broke, and I’ll pay you back when I become queen.”

It has absolutely no effect on him whatsoever. “You’ve been using that line for the whole year you’ve been travelling with us. If we held you to it, Lunar’s economy would be on the verge of collapse.”

“Hey!” She picks up a pea and throws it at him. “It’s not my fault we haven’t broken the sleeping curse yet. Blame Dimi!”

Wilhelmina almost splutters in her drink. “You just told us not to,” she laughs. 

“That was before he was the reason for me not getting free drinks.”

“Oh,” Zhazakhim says, “so it’s more than one, now?”

“Well, the longer you wait, the higher the demand gets.”

“Fine,” he grins, giving in and tossing her a coin. “Here.”

“Thank you!” She flags down the innkeeper and points to her mug. “So, this, uh, this authority stuff. I know we were just joking around, but would I really be able to tell you what to do if you were in Lunar? Even though you’re not from there?”

“To be honest,” he admits, “I’m not entirely sure because I’m not familiar with the details of Lunar Kingdom law, but generally yes, you should be able to. Now, whether _I_ would have to follow what you told me would be up for debate.”

Pomako hums and scrunches her face. “It’s not, though.”

“I’m a free spirit, beholden to no-one’s law,” he counters.

“And I’m guessing that attitude is what got you cursed in the first place.”

He huffs and then flicks the same pea at the ouktazaung that was tossed at him earlier. “All laws are made up. They’re only as powerful as their ability to be enforced.”

Serenity looks very confused. “I don’t get it.”

“One of the big legal difficulties is when one place tries to impose its law on another’s,” Pomako says. 

“Like, would I throw you in my jail for refusing to follow my law?”

“More like how accommodating would you be if I asked you to impose a decision I’ve taken in my state on someone in yours.”

She thinks about it. “If I’m too hard that’s not good for inter-state relations, but if I’m too soft, I’ll be taken advantage of.”

“That’s definitely one problem, yes, but there are a lot of others.”

Serenity looks at Pomako. Back home in her village she was no shrinking violet, people knew not to mess with her- well, not too much, anyway. But this… ruling a kingdom was not the same as keeping competitors away from a small-time delivery business. “This sounds complicated.”

“I wouldn’t worry, it’s late and we’re all very tired.”

“There’s so much to learn about being queen.” She sounds utterly defeated. “How am I going to do this?”

“Together,” Zhazakhim reassures, and then when he realises everyone at the table is staring at him, “What?”

“So you’ve decided to stay with me?” Serenity asks, hopeful.

He gives her a gentle smile and sneaks another quick glance at Amidala. “If I’m stuck with this curse, then I might as well wile away eternity in luxury.”

“You had best watch your throne, Nits,” Nihoru says, “he might just take it from you.”

“I would be offended at your slighting my honour, grub-blood, but fortunately for you, I happen to find that dark, sarcastic side of you attractive.”

“Please someone chop off my ears so I don’t have to hear that comment ever again.”

“They’ll only grow back.”

“Don’t I know it. And now it seems they always will.”

“Together,” Amidala says, “I quite like the sound of that.”

“Well,” Trista, having been quiet during the entire discussion, takes that as her cue, “I think I've done enough damage for the evening and should head to bed.” She reaches into her dress pocket and pulls out a small purse. “Here’s my contribution for the room you rented,” she says, placing several coins on the table, “and here’s another for tonight.”

“There’s no need,” Maladive says. 

“Oh I know, but I just feel bad. You saved my life and as per usual, I repay it with bad news that none of you asked for.”

“You’re right,” Pomako jokes, “take her coins. And ask for another.”

“The meal! Of course, I forgot.”

“She was kidding!” Zhazakhim says.

“Oh,” Trista stops, her hand in the purse. “Still.”

“We’re broke, but we’re not so broke that we can’t share a little food,” Endymion states, gaining a little of his confidence back, “And bad news or not, you gave us answers, which we were lacking, so it’s the least we can do.”

“In that case, thank you for your kindness. I’ll retire now and also say my goodbyes, as I doubt I will have the opportunity to see any of you in the morning.”

“Oh,” says Serenity, “why not?”

“I intend to leave very early since I still have a long way to go if I’m to get to Michiru in time, and I have an unavoidable appointment to make first.”

“We wish you all the best of luck,” Wilhelmina says. 

“Thank you, and to you as well. It was a genuine pleasure to meet you all.” She goes to leave and then stops, turning back to look back at the table. “Endymion?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t beat yourself too hard over this. I’ve been dealing in prophecies for some time now, so I know them well. For good or bad, things… they’ll work out in the end. All you can do is your best. Good night!”

He watches her until she disappears upstairs. “Good night,” he says softly.

For a while the table is quiet again. It’s not so tense as it was before, but the conversation’s taken a lot out of them and there is still so much left to process. Eventually, however, Serenity has a request. “Mina?”

The Valkyrie hums. 

“Will you play for us?”

She’s already pulling out her lute again, albeit with more care than when she put it away. “What would you like to hear?” she asks gently. 

“Something hopeful?”

“I think I can muster myself to do that,” she says, “Perhaps Rei will join me? It’s been a while since you’ve sung.”

The vampire looks up at her friend’s attempt to cheer her. “I’m not in much of a singing mood.”

“Please? I’d love to hear you,” Serenity asks, “I didn’t even know you _did_ sing.”

“Neither did I,” Jadeite says, tilting his head to meet her eyes. 

With three of their blondes begging her, she finds herself powerless to resist. “In that case,” she sighs, “how about _Diana’s Lullaby_?”

“Yes please,” Serenity says, “I love that one, my mother used to sing it to me before I went to sleep.”

* * *

Just as Trista had said she would be, the next morning finds her gone, and after a sombre (but delicious and extravagant) breakfast, the ten companions find themselves back at the Lunar border. The crow, Endymion notices, is in its tree again, and it’s still laughing at him. _Great_ , he thinks, they’re back where they started and he doesn’t feel any more sure of himself than he did the day before. If anything, he feels _worse._

“I ate too much pie,” Wilhelmina complains. 

“Impossible,” Serenity says, “there’s no such thing.”

“There is. I’m so full right now I don’t even think my wings would be able to lift me off the ground.”

“Well nobody told you to eat it all,” Areis says, scarlet hood on and her red umbrella tucked under an arm, “in fact I distinctly remember warning you that this is exactly what would happen if you kept eating it.”

Wilhelmina moans. “I couldn’t just let it go to waste, it was a peach crumble. You know how much I love a peach crumble.”

“Yes, unfortunately I do. Shouldn’t we just get on with this? The sun’s practically up and we’re only at the border. We’ll still need to trek to the palace and from what I can remember, Lunar’s a big city. ” 

She has a point. “So what do we do now?” Jadeite asks the group as a whole. 

“Now,” Maladive answers, “I suppose we cross.”

“Do we… do we join hands or something?” Zhazakhim has both arms half-extended outward, ready to reach out fully or draw them both back, depending on the answer. 

“Yes?” Endymion says, equally unsure as to what needs to be done. 

They awkwardly begin to reach for the person on either side of them, but when Endymion goes to take Nihoru’s hand, he steps back from the group and crosses his arms firmly across his chest. “I’m not doing that.”

Zhazakhim rolls his eyes. “Stop being so ridiculous. They’re just hands!”

“No, I mean I’m not doing _this_. I don’t accept what that lady said.”

“But-”

“Who the heck was she, anyway?” he rants. “Was she even real?”

“You think we hallucinated her?” Serenity asks, confused. 

“What’s to say she wasn’t lying? I’m not buying this whole ‘the only curse is your lack of self esteem’ bullshit. There has to be a _real_ way to break our curses. I think Endymion’s been right all along.”

Zhazakhim snorts. “This is definitely a first.”

“No, no. I mean it. I’m not doing this. You can cross, but if you do, you’re doing it without me.”

“We can’t now, can we?” Maladive says. “Without you with us, we’d just fall asleep.”

“Well, that’s the choice you have. I’m not crossing.”

Pomako frowns. “Nihoru-”

“Hey guys,” Serenity interrupts, “is that, uh… is that a bird or another flyer?” She’s frowning and using a hand to shield her eyes from the rising sun. 

“Where?” Jadeite goes to stand next to her and squints into the orange sunlight. “I can’t-” he’s interrupted suddenly by a piece of parchment smacking him right in the face. “It’s a flyer,” he says as Serenity starts laughing so hard she has to drop to the ground. 

“You, uh, you have something-”

“Don’t,” he says, stopping Zhazakhim from saying anymore, “not. another. word.”

It starts Serenity off on another fit. 

“What does it say?” Endymion asks, grinning at the sight of his future queen rolling on the ground with tears in her eyes and clutching her belly in sheer joy. It lightens his chest considerably. 

Jadeite peels the grubby parchment off his face, frowning as he tries to read it in the dimness of the morning. “There’s a contest… First prize is- oh hey! It’s a half hour with _the greatest seer the world has ever known_!” He looks up, suddenly excited. “Niho might actually be onto something!”

Areis walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, taking the parchment gently from his hands to read it herself. “You think the prophecy’s trying to tell us he’s right?”

“As nice as Trista was, she was a random lady who fell off a cliff by tripping over her own feet,” Nihoru says, “How far can we trust her word? Let’s go ask a _real_ seer what to do.”

That has Serenity excited enough to leap off the ground. “What are we waiting for?”

“But- but the _kingdom_ ,” Amidala says, “are we really going to abandon it?”

Maladive at least tries to look like he’s not just as eager as Serenity is to go. “Only for a little while, until we figure out how to break our curses.”

Amidala sighs, and then gives in almost immediately. “Alright, fine,” she says, knowing there was no way she was going to win that one, “Let’s go.”

“To the contest!” Serenity exclaims, and then shuffles up to Wilhelmina. “So, you know how I did a lot of walking yesterday?”

“Nope.”

“Aw.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
